•W1 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
DAVIS 


JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE 


BY 

AMELIA  E.  BARR. 


NEW  YORK: 
DODD,  MEAD  &  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS. 

LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
DAVIS 


COPYRIGHT,  1885 

BY 

DODD,  MEAD  &  COMPANY 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I.— JAN'S  WEDDING i 

CHAPTER  11.— A  LITTLE  CLOUD  IN  THE  SKY.  .  17 
CHAPTER  111. — JAN'S  OPPORTUNITY.  .  .  .36 
CHAPTER  IV. — THE  DESOLATED  HOME.  .  .  54 

CHAPTER  V. — SHIPWRECK 74 

CHAPTER  VI.— MARGARET'S  HEART.  .  .  .94 
CHAPTER  VII.—  THE  MAN  AT  DEATH'S  DOOR.  .  116 
CHAPTER  VI II.— DEATH  AND  CHANGE.  .  .  140 
CHAPTER  IX. — JAN  AT  HIS  POST  .  .  .  .167 

CHAPTER  X. — SWEET  HOME 193 

CHAPTER  XI. — SNORRO  is  WANTED.  .  .  .  228 
CHAPTER  XII. — SNORRO  AND  JAN.  .  .  .  252 
CHAPTER  XIII. — LITTLE  JAN'S  TRIUMPH.  .  .  275 

CHAPTER  XIV. — JAN'S  RETURN 297 

CHAPTER  XV. — LABOR  AND  REST.        .        .       .  317 


JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE, 


CHAPTER   I. 

JAN'S    WEDDING. 

,'-'  Eastward,  afar r  the  coasts  of  men  were  seen 
Dim,  shadowy,  and  spectral  ;  like  a  still 
Broad  land  of  spirits  lay  the  vacant  sea 
Beneath  the  silent  heavens-^here  arid  there, 
Perchance,  a  vessel  skimmed  the  watery  waste,     ; 
Like  a  white-winged  sea-bird,  but  it  moved 
;  ,        Too  pale  and  small  beneath  the  vail  of  space. 
There,  too,  went  forth  the  sun 
Like  a  white  angel,  going  down  to  visit 
The  silent,  ice^ washed  cloisters  of  the  Pole. " 

— RICHTER'S  "  TITAN;" 

MORE  than  fifty  years  ago  this  thing  hap- 
pened :  Jan  Vedder  was  betrothed  to 
Margaret  Fae.  It  was  at  the  beginning  of  the 
Shetland  summer,  that  short  interval  of  inex- 
pressible beauty,  when  the  amber  sunshine  lin- 
gers low  in  the  violet  skies  'from  week  to  week ; 
and  the  throstle  and  the  lark  sing  at  midnight, 


a  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

and  the  whole  land  has  an  air  of  enchantment, 
mystic,  wonderful,  and  far  off. 

In  the  town  of  Lerwick  all  was  still,  though 
it  was  but  nine  o'clock ;  for  the  men  were 
at  the  ling-fishing,  and  the  narrow  flagged 
street  and  small  quays  were  quite  deserted. 
Only  at  the  public  fountain  there  was  a  little 
crowd  of  women  and  girls,  and  they  sat  around 
its  broad  margin,  with  their  water  pitchers  and 
their  knitting,  laughing  and  chatting  in  the 
dreamlike  light. 

"  Well,  and  so  Margaret  Fae  marries  at  last ; 
she,  too,  marries,  like  the  rest  of  the  world." 

"  Yes,  and  why  not  ?  " 

"As  every  one  knows,  it  is  easier  to  begin 
that  coil  than  to  end  it;  and  no  one  has  ever 
thought  that  Margaret  would  marry  Jan — he 
that  is  so  often  at  the  dance,  and  so  seldom  at 
the  kirk." 

"Yes,  and  it  is  said  that  he  is  not  much  of 
a  man.  Magnus  Yool  can  wag  him  here  ;  and 
Nicol  Sinclair  send  him  there,  and  if 
Suneva  Torr  but  cast  her  nixie-eyes  on  him, 
he  leaves  all  to  walk  by  her  side.  It  is  little 
mind  of  his  own  he  hath  ;  besides  that,  he  is 
hard  to  deal  with,  and  obstinate." 


JAN'S   WEDDING.  3 

"  That  is  what  we  all  think,  Gisla  ;  thou  alone 
hast  uttered  it.  But  we  will  say  no  more  of 
Jan,  for  oft  ill  comes  of  women's  talk/' 

The  speakers  were  middle-aged  women  who 
had  husbands  and  sons  in  the  fishing  fleet,  and 
they  cast  an  anxious  glance  toward  it,  as  they 
lifted  their  water  pitchers  to  their  heads,  and 
walked  slowly  home  together,  knitting  as  they 
went.  Lerwick  had  then  only  one  street  of 
importance,  but  it  was  of  considerable  length, 
extending  in  the  form  of  an  amphitheater 
along  the  shore,  and  having  numberless  little 
lanes  or  closes,  intersected  by  stairs,  running 
backward  to  an  eminence  above  the  town.  The 
houses  were  generally  large  and  comfortable, 
but  they  were  built  without  the  least  regard  to 
order.  Some  faced  the  sea,  and  some  the  land, 
and  the  gable  ends  projected  on  every  side, 
and  at  every  conceivable  angle.  Many  of  their 
foundations  were  drilled  out  of  the  rock 
upon  the  shore,  and  the  smooth  waters  of  the 
bay  were  six  feet  deep  at  the  open  doors  or 
windows. 

The  utmost  quiet  reigned  there.  Shetland 
possessed  no  carts  or  carriages,  and  only  the 
clattering  of  a  shelty's  gallop,  or  the  song  of  a 


JA  N  'VEbDEft '  S  WIFE. 

'Sailor  disturbed  the  'echoes.  !  The 
\vhole  jbl'ace had  a  singular,  old-world  look^  and 
the  names  over  the  doors  carried  !bne  back  to 
MrseTaVid  arid  the"  Vikings.  :  For  in  these 
houses  their  children1  dwelt,  still  as  amphibious 
as  their  forefathers,  spending  'most  of  their 
lives  upon  the  sea,  rarely  sleeping  under  a  roof, 
or  warming  themselves  at  a  cottage  fire*;  a  rug- 
ged, pious,  silent  race,  yet  subject,  as  all  Norse- 
men are,  to  fits  of  passionate  and  uncontrolla- 
ble emotion.  :  (  ; 

Prominently  among  the  Thorkels  and  Hal- 
cros, -the  Yools  aiid  Traills,  stood  out  the  name 
of  Peter  Fae.  Peter  had  the  largest '  store  in 
Lerwickj  lie  had  the  largest  fisri-cu'ring  shed,  he 
Was  the  largest  boat  owner.  His  'house  of 
white  stone  outside  the  town  was  two  stories 
high,  and  handsomely  furnished  ;  and  it  was 
said  that  he  would  be  able  to  leave v'his  daugh- 
ter Margaret  £lb,6oo;  a  very  large  fortune  for 
a  Shetland  girl.  Peter  was  a  Norseman  of  pro- 
rioun6ed  type,  and  had  the  massive  face  arid 
loose-limbed  strength  of  his  race,  its  faculty 
for  money-getting,  and  its  deep  religious  sen- 
tirrveht.'  Perhaps  it  would  be  truer  to  say,  its 
deep  Protestant  sentiment,  for  Norsemen  'have 


JAN'S  WEDDING.  $ 

always  been  Protestants ;  they  hated  the  Rom- 
ish church  as  soon  as  they  heard  of  it. 

If:  the  Anglo-Saxon  or  Anglo-American 
wishes  tb  see  whence  came  the  distinguishing 
traits' of  his  race,  let  him  spend  a  few  weeks 
among  the  Shetland  Norsemen,  for  they  have 
pre-eminently  those  qualities  we  are'  accus- 
tomed to  pride  ourselves  upon  possessing — the 
open  air  freshness  of  look,  the  flesh  and  blood 
warmth  of  grip,  the  love  of  the  sea,  the  reso- 
lute earnestness  of  being  and  doing,  the  large, 
clear  sincerity  of  men  accustomed  to  look 
stern  realities  in  the  face. 

Peter's  wife,  Thora,  was  also  of  pure  Norse 
lineage,  and  in  many  an  unrecognized  way 
her  ancestors  influenced  her  daily  life.  She 
had  borne  four  sons,  but,  in  the  expressive 
form  of  Shetland  speech,  "the  sea  had  got 
them  ;"  and  her  daughter  Margaret  was  the 
sole  inheritor  of  their  gathered  gold.  Thora 
was  a  proud,  silent  woman/whose  strongest 
affections  were  with  her  children  in  their  lonely 
sea  graves.  In  her  heart,  deeper  down  than 
her  faith  could  reach,  Jay  a  conviction  that  the 
Faes  and  Thorkels  who  had  sailed  those  seas 
for  centuries  'had  -"called  "  her  boys  to  them. 


6  JAN   TEDDER'S   WIFE. 

And  she  was  always  nursing  an  accusation 
against  herself  for  a  rite  which  she  had  ob- 
served for  their  welfare,  but  which  she  was  now 
sure  had  been  punished  by  their  death.  For 
often,  when  they  had  been  tossing  on  the  black 
North  Sea,  she  had  gone  to  the  top  of  the  hill, 
and  looking  seaward  she  had  raised  from  the 
past  the  brown-sailed  ships,  and  the  big  yel- 
low-haired men  tugging  at  their  oars ;  and  in 
her  heart  there  had  been  a  supplication  to  their 
memory,  which  Peter,  had  he  known  it,  would 
have  denounced,  with  the  sternest  wrath,  as 
neither  more  nor  less  than  a  service  to  Satan. 

But  what  do  we  know  of  the  heart  nearest  to 
our  own?  What  do  we  know  of  our  own 
heart  ?  Some  ancestor  who  sailed  with  Offa, 
or  who  fought  with  the  Ironsides,  or  protested 
with  the  Covenanters,  or  legislated  with  the 
Puritans,  may,  at  this  very  hour,  be  influencing 
us,  in  a  way  of  which  we  never  speak,  and  in 
which  no  other  soul  intermeddles. 

Thora  had  one  comfort.  Her  daughter  was 
of  a  spirit  akin  to  her  own.  Peter  had  sent 
her  to  Edinburgh,  hoping  that  she  would  bring 
back  to  his  northern  home  some  of  those  low- 
land refinements  of  which  he  had  a  shadowy 


JAN'S   WEDDING.  1 

and  perhaps  exaggerated  idea.  But  Margaret 
Fae's  character  was  not  of  that  semi-fluid 
nature  which  can  easily  be  run  into  new 
molds.  She  had  looked  with  distrust  and 
dislike  upon  a  life  which  seemed  to  her  artifi- 
cial and  extravagant,  and  had  come  back  to 
Shetland  with  every  Norse  element  in  her 
character  strengthened  and  confirmed. 

What  then  made  her  betroth  herself  to  Jan 
Vedder?  A  weak,  wasteful  man,  who  had 
little  but  his  good-natured,  pleasant  ways  and 
his  great  beauty  to  recommend  him.  And  yet 
the  wise  and  careful  Margaret  Fae  loved  him  ; 
loved  him  spontaneously,  as  the  brool:  loves  to 
run,  and  the  bird  loves  to  sing. 

"  But  bear  in  mind,  husband,"  said  Thora,  on 
the  night  of  the  betrothal,  "  that  this  thing  is 
of  thy  own  doing.  Thou  hired  Jan  Vedder, 
when  thou  couldst  well  have  hired  a  better 
man.  Thou  brought  him  to  thy  house.  Well, 
then,  was  there  any  wonder  that  ill-luck  should 
follow  the  foolish  deed  ?  " 

"Wife,  the  lad  is  a  pleasant  lad.  If  he  had 
money  to  even  Margaret's  tocher,  and  if  he 
were  more  punctual  at  the  ordinances,  there 
would  be  no  fault  to  him." 


8  JAN  TEDDER'S   WIFE. 

"  So  I  think,  too.  But  when  a  man  has  hot 
religion,  and  has  beside  empty  pockets,  then 
he  is  poor  for  both  worlds.  -It  seems,  then,3 
that  our  Margaret  must  marry  with  a  poor 
man.  And  let  me  tell  thee,  it  Was  a little  thing 
moved  thee,  for '  because  Jan  .had  a  handsome 
face,  and  a  bright  smile,  thou  liked  him.'* 

"  Many  a  sore  heart  folks  get  who  set  liking 
before  judgment.  But  if  there  is  good  in  the 
lad,  then  to. get  married  will  bring  it  out." 

.'•'.That  is  as  it  may- be.  Often  I  have  seen  it 
bring  out  ill.  Can  any  one  tell  if  a  man  be 
good' dr  ill,  unless  they  dwell  under  the  same 
tp.of  with  him?  Abroad,  who  is  so  pleasant  as 
Ragon  Torr?  But  at  home,  every  body  there 
has  to  look  to  his  wishes." 

At  this  point  in  the  conversation,  Margaret 
entered.  She  was  a  tall,  straight  girl,  with  a 
finely-featured,  tranquil  face,  admirably  framed 
iri 'heavy  coils  of  hair  that  were  yellow  as  dawn. 
Her  complexion  was  exquisite,  and  her  eyes 
blue,  and  cool,  and  calm.  She  was  still  and 
passionless  in  manner,  but  far  from  being  cold 
at  heart ;  nevertheless,  her  soul,  with  the 
purify  of  crystal,  had  something  also  of  its 
sharp  angles  ;  something  which  might  perhaps 


JAN'S  WEDDING.  9 

become  hard  and  cutting.  She  carried  herself 
loftily,  arid  walked  with  an  air  of  decision. 
Peter  looked  at  her  steadily  and  said  : 

"Now,,  thou  hast  done  ill,  Margaret.  When 
a  young  girl  marries,  she  must  face  life  for  her- 
self ;  and  many  are  the  shoulders  that  ask  for 
burdens  they  can  not  bear." 

"Yes,  indeed  !  Anditisall  little  to  my  mind," 
added  the  mother.  "  I  had  spoken  to  thee  for 
thy  cousin  Magnus  Hay;  and  then  here  comes 
this  Jan  Vedder !  " 

"Yes,  he  comes!"  and  Margaret  stood 
listening,  the  pink  color  on  her  cheeks  spread- 
ing to  the  tips  of  her  ears,  and  down  her  white 
throat*  "  Yes,  he  comes  !  "  and  with  the  words, 
Jan  stood  in  the  open  door.  A  bright,  hand- 
some fellow  he  was!  There  was  no  one  in  all 
the  Islands  that  was  half  so  beautiful. 

"  Peter, "  he  cried  joyfully,  "here  has  hap- 
pened great  news!  The  '  Sure-Giver 'is  in  the 
harbor  with  all  her  cargo  safe.  She  came 
in  with  the  tide.  All  her  planks  and  nails  are 
lucky.  ' 

;  "  That  is  great  news,  surely,  Jan.      But  it  is 
ill  luck  to  talk  of  good  luck.     Supper  is  ready 
sit  down  with  us." 


ro  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

But  Thora  spoke  no  word,  and  Jan  looked  at 
Margaret  with  the  question  in  his  eyes. 

"  It  means  this,  and  no  more,  Jan.  I  have 
told  my  father  and  mother  that  thou  would 
make  me  thy  wife." 

"That  is  what  I  desire,  most  of  all  things." 

"  Then  there  is  little  need  of  long  talk.  I 
betroth  myself  to  thee  here  for  life  or  death,  Jan 
Vedder ;  and  my  father  and  my  mother  they 
are  the  witnesses  ;  "  and  as  she  spoke,  she  went 
to  Jan,  and  put  her  hands  in  his,  and  Jan  drew 
her  proudly  to  his  breast  and  kissed  her. 

Thora  left  the  room  without  a  glance  at  the 
lovers.  Peter  stood  up,  and  said  angrily  : 
"  Enough,  and  more  than  enough  has  been  said 
this  night.  No,  Jan  ;  I  will  not  put  my  palm 
against  thine  till  we  have  spoken  together. 
There  is  more  to  a  marriage  than  a  girl's  *  Yes  ', 
and  a  wedding  ring." 

That  was  the  manner  of  Jan's  betrothal  ;  and 
as  he  walked  rapidly  back  into  the  town,  there 
came  a  feeling  into  his  heart  of  not  being  quite 
pleased  with  it.  In  spite  of  Margaret's  affec- 
tion and  straightforward  decision,  he  felt 
humiliated. 

"  It  is  what  a  man  gets  who  wooes  a  rich  wife/1 


JAN'S  WEDDING.  II 

he  muttered  ;  "  but  I  will  go  and  tell  Michael 
Snorro  about  it.  And  he  smiled  at  the  prospect, 
and  hurried  onward'to  Peter's  store. 

For  Michael  Snorro  lived  there.  The  open- 
ing  to  the  street  was  closed ;  but  the  one 
facing  the  sea  was  wide  open  ;  and  just  within 
it,  among  the  bags  of  feathers  and  swans'  down, 
the  piles  of  seal  skins,  the  barrels  of  whale  oil, 
and  of  sea-birds'  eggs,  and  the  casks  of  smoked 
geese,  Michael  was  sitting.  The  sea  washed 
the  warehouse  walls,  and  gurgled  under  the 
little  pier,  that  extended  from  the  door,  but  it 
was  the  only  sound  there  was.  Michael,  with 
his  head  in  his  hands,  sat  gazing  into  the 
offing  where  many  ships  lay  at  anchor.  At  the 
sound  of  Jan's  voice  his  soul  sprang  into  his 
face  for  a  moment,  and  he  rose,  trembling  with 
pleasure,  to  meet  him. 

In  all  his  desolate  life,  no  one  had  loved 
Michael  Snorro.  A  suspicion  that  "  he  was 
not  all  there,"  and  therefore  "  one  of  God's 
bairns,"  had  insured  him,  during  his  long  orphan- 
age, the  food,  and  clothes,  and  shelter,  neces- 
sary  for  life ;  but  no  one  had  given  him  love. 
And  Michael  humbly  acknowledged  that  he 
could  not  expect  it,  for  nature  had  been  cruelly 


12  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

unkind  to  him.  He  was,  indeed,  of  almost  gigan- 
tic size,  but  awkward  and  ill-proportioned. 
His  face,  large  and  flat,  had  the  whiteness  of 
clay,  except  at  those  .rare  intervals  when  his 
soul  shone  through  it;  and  no  mortal,  but  Jan 
Redder,  had  ever  seen  that  illumination. 

It  would  be  as  hard  to  tell  why  Michael 
loved  Jan  as  to  say  why  Jonathan's  soulclave 
to  David  as  soon  as  he  saw  him.  Perhaps  it- 
was  an  unreasonable  affection,  but  it  was  one 
passing  the  love  of  woman,  and,  after  all,  can 
we  guess  how  the  two  men  may  have  been, 
spiritually  related?  There  was  some  tie  of 
which  flesh  and  blood  knew  not  between  them. 

"  Michael,  I  am  going  to  be  married." 

•"  Well,  Jan—  and  what  then  ?," 

"  It  will  be  with  me  as  others ;  I  shall  have 
children,  and  grow  rich,  and  old,  and  die." 

"Who  is  it,  Jan?  " 

"  Margaret  Fae." 

"I  thought  that.  Well,  thou  art  sunshine, 
Jan,  and  she  is  like  a  pool  of  clear  water.  If 
the  sun  shines  not,  then  the  water  will  freeze, 
and  grow  cold  and  hard."  . 

,"Thou  dost  not  like  women,  Michael."     1 

"•Nay,  but    I   trust   them   not.     Where  the 


JAN'S  WEDDING.  13 

devil  can  not  go,  he  sends  a  woman.  Well, 
then,  he  will  find  no  such  messenger  for  me. 
He  must  come  himself.  That  is  well ;  the  fight 
will  be  easier."  ;-vv  - 

"  When  I  am  married  I  shall  sail  my  own 
boat,  and  thou  shalt  be  always  with  me,  Michael. 
We  will  feel  the  fresh  wind  blowing  in  the  can- 
vas, and  the  salt  spindrift  in  our  faces,  and  the 
boat  going  as  if  she  were  a  solan  flying  for  the 
rock." 

"Is  that  thy  thought,  then?  Let  me  tell 
thee  that  thou  art  counting  thy  fish  while  they 
are  swimming.  Until  Peter  Fae's  hands  are 
full  of  earth,  he  will  not  part  with  one  gold 
piece.  Make  up  thy  mind  to  that" 

"  Margaret  will  have  her  tocher." 

"  That  will  be  seen  ;  but  if  thou  wants  money, 
Jan,  there  it  is  in  my  chest,  and  what  greater 
joy  can  I  have  than  to  see  it  in  thy  hand — all 
of  it?  It  would  be  thy  grace  to  me." 

Then  Jan  rose  up  and  laid  his  arm  across 
Michael's  shoulder ;  and  Michael's  lifted  face 
caught  the  glow  of  Jan's  bending  one,  and  the 
men's  souls  spoke  to  each  other,  though  their 
lips  never  parted. 

The  next  day  proved   Michael  right.     Peter 


14  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

did  not  name  Margaret's  tocher.  He  said  he 
would  give  Margaret  a  house  with  all  needfu) 
plenishing;  and  he  promised  also  to  pay  all 
the  wedding  expenses.  .  But  there  was  no  word 
of  any  sum  of  ready  money  ;  and  Jan  was  too 
proud  in  his  poverty  to  ask  for  his  right.  He 
did,  indeed,  suggest  that  when  he  was  a  house- 
holder he  should  have  more  wages.  But  Peter 
would  not  see  the  justice  of  any  such  addition. 
"  I  give  thee  all  thou  art  worth,  and  I  will  not 
give  thee  a  Scotch  merk  more,"  he  answered 
roughly.  "  \Vhen  it  comes  to  a  question  of 
wage,  Jan,  the  son  and  the  stranger  are  the 
same  to  me/'  And  when  Jan  told  his  friend 
what  had  been  promised,  Michael  said  only: 
"  Well,  then,  thou  wilt  have  the  woman  also." 

The  twelfth  of  August  is  "the  fisherman's 
foy"  in  Shetland,  and  the  great  feast  of 
the  Islands.  It  was  agreed,  therefore,  that  the 
marriage  should  take  place  at  that  time.  For 
there  would  be  at  least  two  hundred  fishing 
vessels  in  Brassy  Sound  at  that  time,  and  with 
most  of  the  fishermen  Peter  either  had  had 
business,  or  might  have  in  the  future. 

"  For  three  days  we  will  keep  the  feast  for 
all  who  choose  to  come/'  he-said ;  and  so,  when 


JAN'S  WEDDING.  15 

the  procession  formed  for  the  church,  nearly  six 
hundred  men  and  women  were  waiting  to  follow 
Jan  and  his  bride.  Then  Jan  led  her  to  the 
front  of  it,  and  there  was  a  murmur  of  wonder 
and  delight.  Her  dress  was  of  the  richest  white 
satin,  and  her  heavy  golden  ornaments — the  heir- 
looms of  centuries — gave  a  kind  of  barbaric 
splendor  to  it.  The  bright  sunlight  fell  all  over 
her,  and  added  to  the  effect ;  and  Jan,  with 
a  bridegroom's  pardonable  pride,  thought  she 
looked  more  than  mortal. 

Going  to  the  church,  the  procession  preserved 
the  gravity  of  a  religious  rite  ;  but  on  the  re- 
turn, some  one  touched  lightly  the  strings  of  a 
violin,  and,  in  a  moment,  hundreds  of  voices 
were  chanting: 

"  It  is  often  that  I  have  said  it :  In  the  night 
thou  art  my  dream,  and  my  waking  thought  in 
the  morning. 

"  I  loved  thee  always  ;  not  for  three  months, 
not  for  a  year,  but  I  loved  thee  from  the  first,  and 
my  love  shall  not  wither,  until  death  part  us. 

"  Oh,  my  beloved !  My  wife !  Dearer  to 
me  than  the  light  of  the  day!  Closer  to  me 
than  my  hands  and  feet  !  Nothing  but  death 
shall  part  thee  and  me,  forever  \ " 


l6  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

The  singing  opened  their  hearts ;  then  came 
the  feast  and  the  dance,  that  endless  active 
dance  which  is  the  kind  of  riot  in  which  grave 
races  give  vent  to  the  suppressed  excitement  of 
their  lives.  It  did  not  please  Margaret ;  she  was 
soon  weary  of  the  noise  and  commotion,  and 
heartily  glad  when,  on  the  eve  of  the  third 
day,  she  was  called  upon  to  give  the  parting 
toast : 

"  Here's  to  the  men  who  cast  the  net,  and 
the  long  line,"  she  cried,  lifting  the  silver  cup 
above  her  head,  "  And  may  He  hold  His  hand 
about  them  all,  and  open  the  mouth  of  the 
gray  fish ! " 

"And  here's  to  the  bride,'*  answered  the 
oldest  fisher  present,  "and  may  God  give  her  a 
blessing  in  both  hands  !  " 

Then  they  separated,  and  some  went  to  their 
homes  in  Lerwick  and  Scalloway,  and  others 
sailed  to  Ireland  and  Scotland,  and  even  Hol- 
land ;  but  Peter  knew  that  however  much  the 
feast  had  cost  him,  it  was  money  put  out  at 
good  interest,  and  that  he  would  be  very 
likely  to  find  it  again  at  the  next  fishing  season. 


CHAPTER    II. 

A  LITTLE    CLOUD   IN  THE  SKY. 
'*  All  the  flowers  of  Love  and  Happiness  blow  double." 

AS  it  happened  that  year  the  peerie,  or 
Indian  summer,  was  of  unusual  length 
and  beauty.  The  fine  weather  lingered  until 
the  end  of  October.  These  weeks  were  full  of 
joy  to  Margaret  and  to  Jan,  and  in  them  Jan 
showed  himself  in  many  a  charming  light.  He 
played  well  upon  the  violin,  and  as  long  as 
love  was  his  theme  Margaret  understood  him. 
He.  recited  to  her  stirring  stories  from  the 
Sagas,  and  she  thought  only  how  handsome 
he  looked  with  his  flashing  eyes,  and  flushing 
face.  She  never  reflected,  that  the  soul  which 
could  put  life  into  these  old  tales  was  very 
likely  to  be  a  soul  akin  to  the  restless  adven- 
turous men  of  which  they  told.  Her  home 
and  her  love  were  sufficient  for  her  happiness. 


16  fAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

and  she  expected  that  Jan  would  measure  his 
desires  by  the  same  rule. 

But  in  a  few  weeks  Jan  began  to  weary  a 
little  of  a  life  all  love-making.  Many  things, 
laid  aside  for  a  time,  renewed  their  influence 
over  him.  He  wished  to  let  the  romance  and 
exaggeration  of  his  married  position  smk  into 
that  better  tenderness  which  is  the  repose  of 
passion,  and  which  springs  from  the  depths  of 
a  man's  best  nature.  But  Margaret  was  not 
capable  of  renunciation,  and  Jan  got  to  be 
continually  afraid  of  wounding  her  sensibili- 
ties by  forgetting  some  outward  token  of 
affection.  He  tried  to  talk  to  her  of  his  proj- 
ects, of  his  desire  to  go  to  sea  again,  of  his 
weariness  of  the  store.  She  could  understand 
none  of  these  things.  Why  should  he  want  to 
leave  her?  Had  he  ceased  to  love  her?  Her 
father  was  happy  in  the  store.  It  offended  her 
to  hear  a  word  against  it.  Yet  she  thought 
she  loved  Jan  perfectly,  and  would  have  deeply 
resented  Michael  Snorro's  private  verdict 
against  her — that  she  was  a  selfish  woman. 

One  morning,  as  the  first  snow  was  beginning 
to  fall,  a  big  Dutch  skipper  in  his  loose  tunic 
and  high  cap,  and  wooden  clogs,  came  stalking 


A  LITTLE  CLOUD  IN  THE  SKY.  19 

into  Peter's  store,  and  said,  "  Well,  here  at 
last  comes  'The  North  Star.'  Many  of  us 
thought  she  would  come  no  more." 

Jan  was  packing  eggs,  but  he  signed  to 
Michael  to  take  his  place,  and  in  a  few  minutes 
he  was  among  the  crowd  watching  her  arrival. 
She  came  hurrying  in,  with  all  her  sails  set,  as 
if  she  were  fleeing  from  the  northern  winter 
behind  her.  Her  stout  sides  were  torn  by 
berg  and  floe,  her  decks  covered  with  seal 
skins  and  jawbones  of  whales,  and  amidships 
there  was  a  young  polar  bear  growling  in  a 
huge  cask.  Her  crew,  weather-beaten  and 
covered  with  snow  and  frost,  had  the  strange 
look  of  men  from  lands  unknown  and  far  off. 
Jan  had  once  sailed  in  her,  and  her  first  mate 
was  his  friend.  It  was  like  meeting  one  from 
the  dead.  Proudly  and  gladly  he  took  him  to 
his  home.  He  wanted  him  to  see  his  beauti- 
ful wife.  He  was  sure  Margaret  would  be 
delighted  to  welcome  a  man  so  brave,  and  so 
dear  to  him. 

On  the  contrary,  it  was  a  deep  offense  to  her. 
Christian  Groat,  in  his  sheepskin  suit,  oily  and 
storm-stained,  unkempt  and  unshorn,  seemed 
strangely  out  of  place  in  her  spotless  room. 


20  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

That  he  had  fought  with  the  elements,  and 
with  the  monsters  of  the  deep,  made  him  no 
hero  in  her  eyes.  She  was  not  thrilled  by  his 
adventures  upon  drifting  floes,  and  among  ice 
mountains  reeling  together  in  perilous  madness. 
The  story  made  Jan's  blood  boil,  and  brought 
the  glistening  tears  into  his  big  blue  eyes ;  but 
Margaret's  pulses  beat  no  whit  quicker.  Chris- 
tian Groat  was  only  a  vulgar  whaler  to  her,  and 
that  Jan  should  bring  him  to  her  hearth  and 
table  made  her  angiy. 

Jan  was  hurt  and  humiliated.  The  visit  from 
which  he  had  hoped  so  much,  was  a  pain  and  a 
failure.  He  walked  back  into  the  town  with 
his  friend,  and  was  scarcely  able  to  speak. 
Margaret  also  was  silent  and  grieved.  She 
thought  Jan  had  wronged  her.  She  had  to 
make  a  clean  cushion  for  the  chair  in  which  the 
man  had  sat.  She  persisted  for  days  in  smelling 
whale  oil  above  the  reek  of  the  peat,  above  even 
the  salt  keenness  of  the  winter  air.  Her  father 
had  never  done  such  a  thing ;  she  could  not 
understand  Jan's  thoughtlessness  about  her. 

For  two  days  she  was  silent,  and  Jan  bore  it 
very  well,  for  he,  too,  was  hurt  and  angry.  On 
the  third  he  spoke  to  his  wife,  and  little  by 


A  LITTLE  CLOUD  ttf  THE  SKY.  21 

little  the  coolness  wore  away.  But  an  active 
quarrel  and  some  hard  words  had  perhaps  been 
better,  for  then  there  might  have  followed 
some  gracious  tears,  and  a  loving  reconciliation. 
As  it  was,  the  evenings  wore  silently  and  gloom- 
ily away.  Margaret  sat,  mechanically  knitting, 
her  beautiful  face  wearing  an  expression  of 
injury  and  resignation  that  was  intolerably 
anr/oying  to  a  man  of  Jan's  temper.  But  though 
she  said  nothing  to  her  husband  during  these 
unhappy  hours,  the  devil  talked  very  plainly  in 
her  place. 

"  Why,"  he  asked  Jan,  "  do  you  stay  beside 
a  sulky  woman,  when  there  are  all  your  old 
companions  at  Ragon  Torr's?  There,  also, 
is  the  song  and  the  tale,  and  the  glass  of  good- 
fellowship.  And  who  would  be  so  heartily 
welcome  as  Jan  Vedder  ?  " 

.  Jan  knew  all  this  well.  But  as  he  did  not 
care  to  make  his  wife  unhappy,  he  determined 
to  deceive  her.  It  was  snowing,  and  likely  to 
snow ;  Margaret  would  not  come  down  to  the 
store  in  such  weather.  So  he  said  to  her, 
"  Michael  Snorro  hath  a  fever.  He  can  not 
work.  That  is  a  bad  business,  for  it  is  only  I 
that  can  fill  his  place.  The  work  will  keep  me 


22  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

late,  wait  not  for  me.  '  To  himself  he  said  ; 
"  To  leave  her  alone  a  few  nights,  that  will  be 
a  good  thing ;  when  I  stay  next  at  my  own 
hearth,  she  may  have  something  to  say  to  me.'* 

Margaret's  nature  was  absolutely  truthful. 
She  never  doubted  Jan's  words.  In  that  love 
of  self  which  was  a  miserable  omnipresence  with 
her,  she  was  angry  with  Snorro  for  being  sick 
and  thus  interfering  in  her  domestic  life,  but 
she  fully  believed  her  husband's  statement. 

Jan  spent  two  evenings  at  Ragon  Torr's,  but 
on  the  third  morning  his  conscience  smote  him 
a  little.  He  looked  at  Margaret,  and  wished 
she  would  ask,  "  Wilt  thou  come  home  early 
to-night  ?  "  He  would  gladly  have  answered 
her,  "  I  will  come  at  whatever  hour  thou 
desirest."  But,  unfortunately,  Margaret  was  at 
that  moment  counting  her  eggs,  and  there  were 
at  least  two  missing.  She  was  a  woman  who 
delighted  in  small  economies  ;  she  felt  that  she 
was  either  being  wronged  by  her  servant,  or 
that  her  fowls  were  laying  in  strange  nests. 
At  that  moment  it  was  a  subject  of  great 
importance  to  her ;  and  she  never  noticed  the 
eager,  longing  look  in  Jan's  eyes. 

When  he  said  at  last,  "  Good-by  to  thee,  Mar- 


A  LITTLE  CLOUD  IN  THE  SKY..  23 

garet ;  "  she  looked  up  from  her  basket  of  eggs 
half  reproachfully  at  him.  She  felt  that  Jan 
might  have  taken  more  interest  in  her  loss.  She 
had  not  yet  divined  that  these  small  savings  of 
hers  were  a  source  of  anger  and  heart-burning  to 
him.  He  knew  well  that  the  price  of  her  end- 
less knitting,  her  gathered  eggs,  wool,  and 
swans'  down,  all  went  to  her  private  account  in 
Lerwick  Bank.  For  she  had  been  saving 
money  since  she  was  a  child  six  years  old,  and 
neither  father,  mother,  nor  husband  knew  how 
much  she  had  saved.  That  was  a  thing  Mar- 
garet kept  absolutely  to  herself  and  the  little 
brown  book  which  was  in  her  locked  drawer. 
There  had  been  times  when  Jan  could  have 
opened  it  had  he  desired  ;  but  he  had  been  too 
hurt  and  too  proud  to  do  so.  If  his  wife  could 
not  voluntarily  trust  him,  he  would  not  solicit 
her  confidence.  And  it  had  never  struck  Mar- 
garet that  the  little  book  was  a  hidden  rock, 
on  which  every  thing  might  yet  be  wrecked.  It 
was  there,  though  the  tide  of  daily  life  flowed 
over  it,  and  though  it  was  never  spoken  of. 

All  that  day  Jan  was  sulky  and  obstinate, 
and  Peter  came  near  quarreling  with  him  more 
than  once.  But  Peter  thought  he  knew  what 


24  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

was  the  matter,  and  he  smiled  grimly  to  him- 
self  as  he  remembered  Margaret's  power  of 
resistance.  Perhaps  a  fellow-feeling  made  him 
unusually  patient,  for  he  remembered  that 
Thora  had  not  been  brought  to  a  state  of 
perfect  obedience  until  she  had  given  him 
many  a  day  of  active  discomfort.  He  watched 
Jan  curiously  and  not  without  sympathy,  for 
the  training  of  wives  is  a  subject  of  interest 
even  to  those  who  feel  themselves  to  have  been 
quite  successful. 

During  the  first  hours  of  the  day  Jan  was 
uncertain  what  to  do.  A  trifle  would  have 
turned  him  either  way,  and  in  the  afternoon 
the  trifle  came.  A  boat  arrived  from  Kirkwall, 
and  two  of  her  crew  were  far-off  cousins.  The 
men  were  in  almost  as  bad  condition  as  Chris- 
tian Groat.  He  would  not  risk  soiling  Marga- 
ret's chair-cushions  again,  so  he  invited  them 
to  meet  him  at  Ragon  Torr's.  As  it  happened 
Margaret  had  an  unhappy  day ;  many  little 
things  went  wrong  with  her.  She  longed  for 
sympathy,  and  began  to  wish  that  Jan  would 
come  home ;  indeed  she  was  half  inclined  to 
go  to  the  store,  and  ask  him  if  he  could 
not. 


A  LITTLE  CLOUD  IN  THE  SKY.  25 

She  opened  the  door  and  looked  out.  It 
«vas  still  snowing  a  little,  as  it  had  been  for  a 
month.  But  snow  does  not  lie  in  Shetland, 
and  the  winters,  though  dreary  and  moist,  are 
dot  too  cold  for  the  daisy  to  bloom  every  where 
at  Christmas,  and  for  the  rye  grass  to  have 
eight  or  ten  inches  of  green  blade.  There  was 
a  young  moon,  too,  and  the  Aurora,  in  a  phal- 
anx of  rosy  spears,  was  charging  upward  to 
the  zenith.  It  was  not  at  all  an  unpleasant 
night,  and,  with  her  cloak  and  hood  of  blue 
flannel,  a  walk  to  the  store  would  be  easy  and 
invigorating. 

As  she  stood  undecided  and  unhappy,  she 
saw  a  man  approaching  the  house.  She  could 
not  fail  to  recognize  the  large,  shambling 
figure.  It  was  Michael  Snorro.  A  blow  from 
his  mighty  hand  could  hardly  have  stunned  her 
more.  She  shut  the  door,  and  sat  down  sick 
at  heart.  For  it  was  evident  that  Snorro  was 
not  ill,  and  that  Jan  had  deceived  her.  Snorro, 
too,  seemed  to  hesitate  and  waver  in  his  inten- 
tions. He  walked  past  the  house  several  times, 
and  then  he  went  to  the  kitchen  door. 

In  a  few  minutes  Elga  Skade,  Margaret's 
servant,  said  to  her,  "  Here  has  come  Michael 


26  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

Snorro,  and  he  would  speak  with  thy  hus- 
band." Margaret  rose,  and  went  to  him.  He 
stood  before  the  glowing  peats,  on  the  kitchen 
hearth,  seeming,  in  the  dim  light,  to  tower  to 
the  very  roof.  Margaret  looked  up  with  a  feeling 
akin  to  terror  at  the  large  white  face  in  the 
gloom  above  her,  and  asked  faintly,  "What 
is't  thou  wants,  Snorro  ?  " 

"  I  would  speak  with  Jan." 

"  He  is  not  come  yet  to  his  home.  At  what 
hour  did  he  leave  the  store  ?  ' 

At  once  Snorro's  suspicions  were  aroused. 
He  stood  silent  a  minute,  then  he  said,  "  He 
may  have  gone  round  by  thy  father's.  I  will 
wait." 

The  man  frightened  her.  She  divined  that 
he  distrusted  and  disapproved  of  her;  and  she 
could  ask  nothing  more.  She  left  him  with 
Elga,  but  in  half  an  hour  she  became  too  rest 
less  to  bear  the  suspense,  and  returned  to  the 
kitchen.  Snorro  gave  her  no  opportunity  to 
question  him.  He  said  at  once,  "  It  is  few 
houses  in  Shetland  a  man  can  enter,  and  no  one 
say  to  him,  '  Wilt  thou  eat  or  drink  ?  ' ' 

"  I  forgot,  Snorro.  lam  troubled  about  Jan. 
What  wilt  thou  have  ?  "  -  - 


A  LITTLE  CLOUD  IN  THE  SKY.  27 

"  What  thou  hast  ready,  and  Elga  will  get  it 
for  me." 

A  few  minutes  later  he  sat  down  to  eat  with 
a  calm  deliberation  which  Margaret  could  not 
endure.  She  put  on  her  cloak  and  hood,  and 
calling  Elga,  said,  "  If  he  asks  for  me,  say  that 
I  spoke  of  my  father's  house." 

Then  she  slipped  out  of  the  front  door,  and 
went  with  fleet  steps  into  the  town.  The 
street,  which  was  so  narrow  that  it  was  possible 
to  shake  hands  across  it,  was  dark  and  empty. 
The  shops  were  all  shut,  and  the  living  rooms 
looked  mostly  into  the  closes,  or  out  to  the 
sea.  Only  here  and  there  a  lighted  square  of 
glass  made  her  shrink  into  the  shadow  of  the 
gables.  But  she  made  her  way  without  hin- 
drance to  a  house  near  the  main  quay.  It  was 
well  lighted,  and  there  was  the  sound  and  stir 
of  music  and  singing,  of  noisy  conversation  and 
laughter  within  it. 

Indeed,  it  was  Ragon  Torr's  inn.  The  front 
windows  were  uncurtained,  and  she  saw,  as  she 
hurriedly  passed  them,  that  the  main  room  was 
full  of  company  ;  but  she  did  not  pause  until 
within  the  close  at  the  side  of  the  house,  when, 
.standing  jn  tfre  shadow  of  the  outbuilt  chimney. 


28  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIF*. 

she  peered  cautiously  through  the  few  small 
squares  on  that  side.  It  was  as  she  suspected. 
Jan  sat  in  the  very  center  of  the  company,  his 
handsome  face  all  aglow  with  smiles,  his  hands 
busily  tuning  the  violin  he  held.  Torr  and  half 
a  dozen  sailors  bent  toward  him  with  admiring 
looks,  and  Ragon's  wife  Barbara,  going  to  and 
fro  in  her  household  duties,  stopped  to  say 
something  to  him,  at  which  every  body  laughed, 
but  Jan's  face  darkened. 

Margaret  did  not  hear  her  name,  but  she  felt 
sure  the  remark  had  been  about  herself,  and  her 
heart  burned  with  anger.  She  was  turning 
away,  when  there  was  a  cry  of  pleasure,  and 
Suneva  Torr  entered.  Margaret  had  always 
disliked  Suneva  ;  she  felt  now  that  she  hated 
and  feared  her.  Her  luring  eyes  were  dancing 
with  pleasure,  her  yellow  hair  fell  in  long,  loose 
waves  around  her,  and  she  went  to  Jan's  side, 
put  her  hand  on  his  shoulder,  and  said  some- 
thing to  him. 

Jan  looked  back,  and  up  to  her,  and  nodded 
brightly  to  her  request.  Then  out  sprang  the 
tingling  notes  from  the  strings,  and  clear,  and 
shrill,  and  musical,  Suneva's  voice  picked  them 
up  with  £  charming  distinctness : 


A  LITTLE  CLOUD  IN  THE  SKY.  29 

"  Well,  then,  since  we  are  welcome  to  Yool, 
Up  with  it,  Lightfoot,  link  it  awa',  boys  ; 

Send  for  a  fiddler,  play  up  the  Foula  reel, 
And  we'll  skip  it  as  light  as  a  maw,  boys." 
Then  she  glanced  at  the  men,  and  her  father 

and  mother,  and   far  in  the  still  night  rang  out 

the  stirring  chorus : 

"  The  Shaalds  of  Foula  will  pay  for  it  a'! 
Up  with  it,  Lightfoot,  and  link  it  awa'." 

Then  the  merry  riot  ceased,  and  Suneva's 
voice  again  took  up  the  song — 

"  Now  for  a  light  and  a  pot  of  good  beer, 

Up  with  it,  Lightfoot,  and  link  it  awa',  boys  ! 

We'll  drink  a  good  fishing  against  the  New  Year, 
And  the  Shaalds  of  Foula  will  pay  for  it  a',  boys. 

CHORUS: 

"  The  Shaalds  of  Foula  will  pay  for  it  a'; 

Up  with  it,  Lightfoot,  and  link  it  awa'.  " 

Margaret  could  bear  it  no  longer,  and,  white 
and  stern,  she  turned  away  from  the  window. 
Then  she  saw  Michael  Snorro  standing  beside 
her.  Even  in  the  darkness  she  knew  that  his 
eyes  were  scintillating  with  anger.  He  took 
her  by  the  arm  and  led  her  to  the  end  of  the 
close.  Then  he  said  • 


30  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

"  Much  of  a  woman  art  thou  !  If  I  was  Jan 
Vedder,  never  again  would  I  see  thy  face  !  No, 
never !  " 

"  Jan  lied  to  me  !  To  me,  his  wife  !  Did  thou 
think  he  was  at  my  father's?  He  is  in  Ragon 
Torr's." 

"Thou  lied  to  me  also;  and  if  Jan  is  in 
Ragou  Torr's,  let  me  tell  thee,  that  thou  sent 
him  there." 

"  I  lied  not  to  thee.     I  lie  to  no  one." 

"  Yea,  but  thou  told  Elga  to  lie  for  thee.  A 
jealous  wife  knows  not  what  she  doer  Did 
thou  go  to  thy  father's  house  ?  " 

"  Speak  thou  no  more  to  me,  Michael  Snorro." 
Then  she  sped  up  the  street,  holding  her  breast 
tightly  with  both  hands,  as  if  to  hold  back  the 
sobs  that  were  choking  her,  until  she  reached 
her  own  room,  and  locked  fast  her  door.  She 
sobbed -for  hours  with  all  the  passionate  aban- 
don which  is  the  readiest  relief  of  great  sorrows 
that  come  in  youth.  In  age  we  know  better ; 
we  bow  the  head  and  submit. 

When  she  had  quite  exhausted  herself,  she 
began  to  long  for  some  comforter,  some  one  to 
whom  she  could  tell  her  trouble.  But  Margaret 
had  few  acquaintances  ;  none,  among  the  few,  of 


A  LITTLE  CLOUD  IN  THE  SKY.  31 

whom  she  could  make  a  confidant.  From  her 
father  and  mother,  above  all  others,  she  would 
keep  this  humiliation.  God  she  had  never 
thought  of  as  a  friend.  He  was  her  Creator, 
her  Redeemer,  also,  if  it  were  his  good  pleas- 
ure to  save  her  from  eternal  death.  He  was 
the  Governor  of  the  Universe  ;  but  she  knew 
him  not  as  a  Father  pitying  his  children,  as  a 
God  tender  to  a  broken  heart.  Was  it  possible 
that  a  woman's  sharp  cry  of  wounded  love 
could  touch  the  Eternal  ?  She  never  dreamed 
of  such  a  thing.  At  length,  weary 'with  weep- 
ing and  with  her  own  restlessness,  she  sat  down 
before  the  red  peats  upon  the  hearth,  for  once, 
in  her  sorrowful  preoccupation,  forgetting  her 
knitting. 

In  the  meantime,  Snorro  had  entered  Torr's, 
and  asked  for  Jan.  He  would  take  no  excuse, 
and  no  promises,  and  his  white,  stern  face,  and 
silent  way  of  sitting  apart,  with  his  head  in  his 
hands,  was  soon  felt  to  be  a  very  uncomfortable 
influence.  Jan  rose  moodily,  and  went  away 
with  him  ;  too  cross,  until  they  reached  the 
store,  to  ask,  "  Why  did  thou  come  and  spoil 
my  pleasure,  Snorro?" 

"  Neil    Bork   sails  for  Vool  at  the  midnight 


32  ^AN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

tide.  Thou  told  me  thou  must  send  a  letter  by 
him  to  thy  cousin  Magnus/' 

"  That  is  so.  Since  Peter  will  do  nothing,  I 
must  seek  help  of  Magnus.  Well,  then,  I  will 
write  the  letter/' 

When  it  was  finished,  Jan  said,  "  Snorro,  who 
told  thee  I  was  at  Torr's?  " 

"  Thou  wert  not  at  home.  I  went  there,  first/' 

"  Then  thou  hast  made  trouble  for  me,  be 
sure  of  that.  My  wife  thought  that  thou  wast 
ill." 

"  It  is  a  bad  wife  a  man  must  lie  to.  But,  oh, 
Jan  !  Jan  !  To  think  that  for  any  woman  thou 
would  tell  the  lie  !  " 

Then  Jan,  being  in  that  garrulous  mood  which 
often  precedes  intoxication,  would  have  opened 
his  whole  heart  to  Michael  about  his  domestic 
troubles ;  but  Michael  would  not  listen  to 
him.  "  Shut  thy  mouth  tight  on  that  sub- 
ject,"  he  said  angrily.  "  I  will  hear  neither 
good  nor  bad  of  Margaret  Vedder.  Now,  then, 
I  will  walk  home  with  thee,  and  then  I  will  see 
Neil  Bork,  and  give  him  thy  letter." 

Margaret  heard  their  steps  at  the  gate.  Her 
face  grew  white  and  cold  as  ice,  and  her  heart 
hardened  at  the  sound  of  Snorro's  voice.  She 


A  LITTLE  CLOUD  IN  THE  SKY.  33 

had  always  despised  him  ;  now,  for  his  inter- 
ference with  her,  she  hated  him.  She  could  not 
tolerate  Jan's  attachment  to  a  creature  so  rude 
and  simple.  It  was  almost  an  insult  to  herself ; 
and  yet  so  truthfully  did  she  judge  his  heart, 
that  she  was  quite  certain  Michael  Snorro  would 
never  tell  Jan  that  she  had  watched  him 
through  Ragon  Torr's  window.  She  blushed  a 
moment  at  the  memory  of  so  mean  an  action, 
but  instantly  and  angrily  defended  it  to  her  own 
heart. 

Jan  came  in,  with  the  foolish,  good-natured 
smile  of  alcoholic  excitement.  But  when  he 
saw  Margaret's  white,  hard  face,  he  instantly 
became  sulky  and  silent.  "Where  hast  thou 
been,  Jan  ?  "  she  asked.  "  It  is  near  the  mid- 
night." 

"  I  have  been  about  my  own  business.  I  had 
some  words  to  send  by  Neil  Bork  to  my  cousin 
Magnus.  Neil  sails  by  the  midnight  tide/' 

She  laughed  scornfully.  "  Thy  cousin  Mag- 
nus !  Pray,  what  shall  he  do  for  thee  ?  This  is 
some  new  cousin,  surely !  " 

"  Well,  then,  since  thy  father  keeps  thy  tocher 
from  me,  I  must  borrow  of  my  own  kin." 

"  As  for  that,  my  father  hath  been  better  to 


34  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

thee  than  thou  deservest.  Why  didst  thou  lie 
lx>  me  concerning  Snorro  ?  He  has  had  no 
fever.  No,  indeed  !  " 

"  A  man  must  ask  his  wife  whether  he  can 
speak  truth  to  her,  or  not.  Thou  can  not  bear 
it.  Very  well,  then,  I  must  lie  to  thee.". 

"  Yet,  be  sure,  I  will  tell  the  truth  to  thee, 
Jan  Vedder.  Thou  hast  been  at  Ragon  Torr's, 
singing  with  i  light  woman,  and  drinking 
with " 

"  With  my  own  kin.  I  advise  thee  to  say 
nothing  against  them.  As  for  Suneva,  there  is 
no  tongue  in  Lerwick  but  thine  will  speak  evil 
of  her — she  is  a  good  girl,  and  she  hath  a  kind 
heart.  And  now,  then,  who  told  thee  I  was  at 
Torr's?" 

He  asked  the  question  repeatedly,  and 
instead  of  answering  it,  Margaret  began  to 
justify  herself.  "  Have  I  not  been  to  thee  a 
good  wife?  Has  not  thy  house  been  kept 
well,  and  thy  meals  ever  good  and  ready  for 
thee  ?  Has  any  thing,  great  or  little,  gone  to 
waste?" 

"Thou  hast  been  too  good.  It  had  been 
better  if  thou  had  been  less  perfect ;  then  I 
could  have  spoken  to  thee  of  my  great  wish, 


A  LITTLE  CLOUD  IN  THE  SKY.  35 

and  thou  would  have  said,  as  others  say,  ;  Jan, 
it  would  be  a  joy  to  see  thee  at  the  mainmast,  or 
casting  the  ling-lines,  or  running  into  harbor 
before  the  storm,  with  every  sail  set,  as  though 
thou  had  stolen  ship  and  lading/  Thou  would 
not  want  me  to  chaffer  with  old  women  about 
geese-feathers  and  bird-eggs.  Speak  no  more. 
I  am  heavy  with  sleep." 

And  he  could  sleep !  That  was  such  an 
aggravation  of  his  offense.  She  turned  some- 
times and  looked  at  his  handsome  flushed  face, 
but  otherwise  she  sat  hour  after  hour  silent 
and  almost  motionless,  her  hands  clasped  upon 
her  knee,  her  heart  anticipative  of  wrong,  and 
with  a  perverse  industry  considering  sorrows 
that  had  not  as  yet  even  called  to  her.  Alas  ! 
alas!  the  unhappy  can  never  persuade  them- 
selves that  "  sufficient  unto  the  day  is  the  evil 
thereof." 


CHAPTER   III. 


JAN'S   -OPPORTUNITY. 

"  Thou  broad-billowed  sea, 

Never  sundered  from  thee, 
May  I  wander  the  welkin  below  ; 

May  the  plash  and  the  roar 

Of  the  waves  on  the  shore 
Beat  the  march  to  my  feet  as  I  go  ; 

Ever  strong,  ever  free, 

When  the  breath  of  the  sea, 
Like  the  fan  of  an  angel,  I  know  ; 

Ever  rising  with  power, 

To  the  call  of  the  hour, 
Like  the  swell  of  the  tides  as  they  flow." 

— BLACKIE. 

THE  gravitation  of  character  is  naturally 
toward  its  weakest  point.  Margaret's 
weakest  point  was  an  intense,  though  uncon- 
scious, selfishness.  Jan's  restless  craving  for 
change  and  excitement  made  him  dissatisfied 
with  the  daily  routine  of  life,  lazy,  and  often 


JAN'S  OPPORTUNITY.  37 

unreasonable.  His  very  blessings  became 
offenses  to  him.  His  clean,  well-ordered 
house,  made  him  fly  to  the  noisy  freedom  of 
Ragon  Torr's  kitchen.  Margaret's  never-ceas- 
ing industry,  her  calmness,  neatness  and  delib- 
eration, exasperated  him  as  a  red  cloth  does  a 
bull. 

Suneva  Torr  had  married  Paul  Glumm.  and 
Jan  often  watched  her  as  he  sat  drinking  his 
ale  in  Torr's  kitchen.  At  home,  it  is  true,  she 
tormented  Glumm  with  her  contrary,  provok- 
ing moods ;  but  then,  again,  she  met  him  with 
smiles  and  endearments  that  atoned  for  every 
thing.  Jan  thought  it  would  be  a  great  relief 
if  Margaret  were  only  angry  sometimes.  For 
he  wearied  of  her  constant  serenity,  as  people 
weary  of  sunshine  without  cloud  or  shadow. 

And  Margaret  suffered.  No  one  could  doubt 
that  who  watched  her  face  from  day  to  day. 
She  made  no  complaint,  not  even  to  her 
mother.  Thora,  however,  perceived  it  all. 
She  had  foreseen  and  foretold  the  trouble,  but 
she  was  too  noble  a  woman  to  point  out  the 
fulfillment  of  her  prophecy.  As  she  went 
about  her  daily  work,  she  considered,  and  not 
unkindly,  the  best  means  for  bringing  Jan 


38  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

back  to  his  wife  and  home,  and  his  first  pride 
in  them. 

She  believed  that  the  sea  only  could  do  it. 
After  all,  her  heart  was  with  the  men  who 
loved  it.  She  felt  that  Jan  was  as  much  out 
of  place  counting  eggs,  as  a  red  stag  would  be 
if  harnessed  to  a  plow.  She,  at  least,  under- 
stood the  rebellious,  unhappy  look  on  his 
handsome  face.  When  the  ling  fishing  was 
near  at  hand,  she  said  to  Peter :  "  There  is  one 
thing  that  is  thy  duty,  and  that  is  to  give  Jan 
the  charge  of  a  boat.  He  is  for  the  sea,  and 
it  is  not  well  that  so  good  a  sailor  should  go 
out  of  the  family." 

"  I  have  no  mind  to  do  that.  Jan  will  do 
well  one  day,  and  he  will  do  as  ill  as  can  be 
the  next.  I  will  not  trust  a  boat  with  him.'* 

"  It  seems  to  me  that  where  thou  could  trust 
Margaret,  thou  might  well  trust  nineteen  feet 
ot  keel,  and  fifty  fathom  of  long  lines." 

Peter  answered  her  not,  and  Thora  kept 
silence  also.  But  at  the  end,  when  he  had 
smoked  his  pipe,  and  was  lifting  the  Bible  for 
the  evening  exercise,  he  said :  "  Thou  shalt 
have  thy  way,  wife  ;  Jan  shall  have  a  boat,  but 
thou  wilt  see  evil  will  come  of  it." 


JAN'S  OPPORTUNITY.  39 

"  Thou  wert  always  good,  Peter,  and  in  this 
thing  I  am  thinking  of  more  than  fish.  There 
is  sorrow  in  Margaret's  house.  A  mother  can 
feel  that." 

"  Now,  then,  meddle  thou  not  in  the  matter. 
Every  man  loves  in  his  own  way.  Whatever 
there  is  between  Jan  and  Margaret  is  a  thing 
by  itself.  But  I  will  speak  about  the  boat  in 
the  morning." 

Peter  kept  his  word,  and  kept  it  without 
smallness  or  grudging.  He  still  liked  Jan.  If 
there  were  trouble  between  him  and  Margaret 
he  regarded  it  as  the  natural  initiation  to 
married  life.  Norse  women  were  all  high- 
spirited  and  wished  to  rule ;  and  he  would  have 
despised  Jan  if  he  had  suspected  him  of  giving 
way  to  Margaret's  stubborn  self-will.  Though 
she  was  his  own  daughter,  he  did  nat  wish  to 
see  her  setting  an  example  of  wifely  suprem- 
acy. 

So  he  called  Jan  pleasantly  and  said,  "  I 
have  saved  for  thee  '  The  Fair  Margaret/ 
Wilt  thou  sail  her  this  season,  Jan  ?  She  is 
the  best  boat  I  have,  as  thou  well  knows. 
.Fourteen  hundred  hooks  she  is  to  carry,  and 
thou  can  hire  six  men  to  go  with  thee." 


40  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

It  made  Peter's  eyes  feel  misty  to  see  the 
instantaneous  change  in  Jan's  face.  He  could 
not  speak  his  thanks,  but  he  looked  them  ;  and 
Peter  felt  troubled,  and  said,  almost  querulously, 
"  There,  that  will  do,  son  Jan ;  go  now,  and 
hire  the  men  thou  wants." 

"  First  of  all,  I  should  like  Snorro." 

Peter  hesitated,  but  he  would  not  tithe  his 
kindness,  and  he  frankly  answered,  "Well,  then, 
thou  shalt  have  Snorro — though  it  will  go  hard 
with  me,  wanting  him." 

"  But  we  will  make  it  go  well  with  thee  on 
the  sea,  father." 

"  As  for  that,  it  will  be  as  God  pleases.  A 
man's  duty  is  all  my  claim  on  thee.  Margaret 
will  be  glad  to  see  thee  so  happy."  He 
dropped  his  eyes  as  he  spoke  of  Margaret. 
He  would  not  seem  to  watch  Jan,  although  he 
was  conscious  of  doing  so. 

"  A  woman  has  many  minds,  father.  Who 
knows  if  a  thing  will  make  her  happy  or 
angry  ?  " 

"  That  is  a  foolish  saying,  Jan.  A  wife  must 
find  her  pleasure  in  the  thing  that  pleases  her 
husband.  But  now  thou  wilt  have  but  little 
time ;  the  boat  is  to  be  tried,  and  the  hooks 


JAN'S  OPPORTUNITY.  41 

and  lines  are  to  go  over,  and  the  crew  to  hire. 
I  have  left  all  to  thee." 

This  pleased  Jan  most  of  all.  Only  a  bird 
building  its  first  nest  could  have  been  as  happy 
as  he  was.  When  at  night  he  opened  the  door 
of  his  house,  and  went  in  with  a  gay  smile,  it 
was  like  a  resurrection.  The  pale  rose-color  on 
Margaret's  cheek  grew  vivid  and  deep  when  he 
took  her  in  his  arms,  and  kissed  her  in  the  old 
happy  way.  She  smiled  involuntarily,  and 
Jan  thought,  "  How  beautiful  she  is  !  "  He 
told  her  all  Peter  had  said  and  done.  He  was 
full  of  gratitude  and  enthusiasm.  He  did  not 
notice  for  a  few  moments  that  Margaret  was 
silent,  and  chillingly  unresponsive.  He  was 
amazed  to  find  that  the  whole  affair  displeased 
her. 

"  So,  then,  I  have  married  a  common  fisher- 
man after  all,"  she  said  bitterly  ;  "  why,  Suneva 
Torr's  husband  has  a  bigger  boat  than  thine." 

It  was  an  unfortunate  remark,  and  touched 
Jan  on  a  very  raw  place.  He  could  not  refrain 
from  answering,  "  He  hath  had  better  luck 
than  I.  Ragon  Torr  gave  Glumm  Suneva's 
tocher,  and  he  has  bought  his  own  boat  with 
it." 


42  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

"  Why  not  ?  Every  one  knows  that  Glumm 
is  a  prudent  man.  He  never  gets  on  his  feet 
for  nothing  f 

Jan  was  inexpressibly  pained  and  disap- 
pointed. For  a  moment  a  feeling  of  utter 
despair  came  over  him.  The  boat  lay  upon 
his  heart  like  a  wreck.  He  drank  his  tea 
gloomily,  and  the  delicately-browned  fish,  the 
young  mutton,  and  the  hot  wheat  cakes,  all 
tasted  like  ashes  in  his  mouth.  Perhaps,  then, 
Margaret's  heart  smote  her,  for  she  began  to 
talk,  and  to  press  upon  Jan's  acceptance  the 
viands  which  had  somehow  lost  all  their  savor 
to  him.  Her  conversation  was  in  like  case. 
She  would  not  speak  of  the  boat,  since  they 
could  not  agree  about  it ;  and  no  other  subject 
interested  Jan.  But,  like  all  perfectly  selfish 
people,  she  imagined,  as  a  matter  of  course, 
that  whatever  interested  her  was  the  supreme 
interest.  In  her  calm,  even  voice,  she  spoke  of 
the  spring  house-cleaning,  and  the  growth  of 
her  pansies  and  tulip-bulbs,  and  did  not  know 
that  all  the  time  Jan  was  thinking  of  his  boat, 
heaving  on  the  tide-top,  or  coming  into  harbor 
so  heavy  with  fish  that  she  would  be — in -Shet- 
land phrase — lippering  with  the  water. 


JAN'S  OPPORTUNITY.  43 

But,  after  all,  the  week  of  preparation  was  a 
very  happy  week  to  Jan  and  Snorro ;  and  on 
the  sixteenth  of  May  they  were  the  foremost 
of  the  sixty  boats  that  sailed  out  of  Lerwick 
for  the  ling  ground.  There  was  a  great  crowd 
on  the  pier  to  see  them  off — mothers,  and  wives, 
and  sweethearts  ;  boys,  sick  and  sad  with  long-, 
ing  and  envy;  and  old  men,  with  the  glamor 
of  their  own  past  in  their  faces.  Among  them 
was  Suneva,  in  a  bright  blue  dress,  with  blue 
ribbons  fluttering  in  her  yellow  hair.  She  stood 
at  the  pier-head  and  as  they  passed  poured  a 
cup  of  ale  into  the  sea,  to  forespeak  good  luck 
for  the  fleet.  Jan  would  have  dearly  liked  to 
see  his  wife's  handsome  face  watching  him,  as 
he  stood  by  the  main-mast  and  lifted  his  cap 
to  Peter.  Margaret  was  not  there. 

She  really  felt  very  much  humiliated  in  Jan's 
position.  She  had  always  held  herself  a  little 
apart  from  the  Lerwick  women.  She  had  been 
to  Edinburgh,  she  had  been  educated  far  above 
them,  and  she  was  quite  aware  that  she  would 
have  a  very  large  fortune.  Her  hope  had  been 
to  see  Jan  take  his  place  among  the  merchants 
and  bailies  of  Lerwick.  She  had  dreams  of  the 
fine  mansion  that  they  would  build,  and  of  the 


44  fAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

fine  furniture  which  would  come  from  Edin- 
burgh for  it.  Margaret  was  one  of  those  women 
to  whom  a  house  can  become  a  kingdom,  and 
its  careful  ordering  an  affair  of  more  importance 
than  the  administration  of  a  great  nation. 
When  she  chose  Jan,  and  raised  him  from  his 
humble  position,  she  had  no  idea  that  he  would 
drift  back  again  to  the  fishing  nets. 

For  the  first  time  she  carried  her  complaint 
home.  But  Thora  in  this  matter  had  not 
much  sympathy  with  her.  "The  sea  is  his 
mother,"  she  said;  "  he  loved  her  before  he  loved 
thee  ;  when  she  calls  him,  he  will  always  go  back 
to  her." 

"  No  man  in  Shetland  hath  a  better  business 
to  his  hand  ;  and  how  can  he  like  to  live  in  a 
boat,  he,  that  hath  a  home  so  quiet,  and  clean, 
and  comfortable  ?  " 

Thora  sighed.  "  Thou  wilt  not  understand 
then,  that  what  the  cradle  rocks  the  spade  buries. 
The  sea  spoke  to  Jan  before  he  lay  on  his 
mother's  breast.  His  father  hath  a  grave  in  it. 
Neither  gold  nor  the  love  of  woman  will  ever 
keep  them  far  apart  ;  make  up  thy  mind  to 
that." 

All  this  might  be  true,  but  yet  it  humiliated 


JAN'S  OPPORTUNITY.  45 

Margaret.  Besides,  she  imagined  that  every 
wife  in  Lerwick  was  saying,  "  Not  much  hold 
has  Margaret  Vedder  on  her  husband.  He  is 
off  to  sea  again,  and  that  with  the  first  boat 
that  sails."  Yet  if  success  could  have  reconciled 
her,  Jan's  was  wonderful.  Not  unfrequently 
"  The  Fair  Margaret  "  took  twenty  score  ling  at 
a  haul,  and  every  one  was  talking  of  her  good 
luck. 

During  these  days  Jan  and  Snorro  drew  very 
close  to  each  other.  When  the  baits  were  set 
most  of  the  men  went  to  sleep  for  three  hours ; 
but  Snorro  always  watched,  and  very  often 
Jan  sat  with  him.  And  oh,  the  grand  solemnity 
and  serenity  of  these  summer  nights,  when 
through  belts  of  calm  the  boats  drifted  and  the 
islands  in  a  charmed  circle  filled  the  pale  purple 
horizon  before  them.  Most  fair  then  was  the 
treeless  land,  and  very  far  off  seemed  the  sin 
and  sorrow  of  life.  The  men  lay  upon  the 
deck,  with  a  pile  of  nets  or  their  folded  arms 
for  a  pillow,  and  surely  under  such  a  sky,  like 
Jacob  of  old,  they  dreamed  of  angels. 

Snorro  and  Jan,  sitting  in  the  soft,  mystical 
light,  talked  together,  dropping  their  voices 
involuntarily;  and  speaking  slowly,  with  thought- 


46  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

ful  pauses  between  the  sentences.  When  they 
were  not  talking,  Snorro  read,  and  the  book 
was  ever  the  same,  the  book  of  the  Four  Gos- 
pels. Jan  often  watched  him  when  he  thought 
Jan  asleep.  In  that  enchanted  midnight  glow, 
which  was  often  a  blending  of  four  lights — 
moonlight  and  twilight,  the  aurora  and  the 
dawning — the  gigantic  figure  and  white  face, 
bending  over  the  little  book,  had  a  weird  and 
almost  supernatural  interest.  Then  this  man, 
poor,  ugly,  and  despised,  had  an  incomparable 
nobility,  and  he  fascinated  Jan. 

One  night  he  said  to  him,  "  Art  thou  never 
weary  of  reading  that  same  book,  Snorro  ?  " 

"  Am  I  then  ever  weary  of  thee,  my  Jan  ? 
And  these  are  the  words  of  One  who  was  the 
first  who  loved  me.  Accordingly,  how  well  I 
know  his  voice."  Then,  in  a  fervor  of  adoring 
affection,  he  talked  to  Jan  of  his  dear  Lord 
Christ,  "  who  had  stretched  out  his  arms  upon 
the  cross  that  he  might  embrace  the  world." 
And  as  he  talked  the  men,  one  by  one,  raised 
themselves  on  their  elbows  and  listened  ;  and 
the  theme  transfigured  Snorro,  and  he  stood 
erect  with  uplifted  face,  and  looked,  in  spite  of 
his  fisher's  suit,  so  royal  that  Jan  felt  humbled 


JAN'S  OPPORTUNITY.  47 

in  his  presence.  And  when  he  had  tpld,  in  his 
own  simple,  grand  way,  the  story  of  hifi  who 
had  often  toiled  at  midnight  with  the  fishers 
on  the  Galilean  sea,  as  they  toiled  upon  t3r* 
Shetland  waters,  there  was  a  great  silence^ 
until  Jan  said,  in  a  voice  that  seemed  almost 
strange  to  them  :  "  Well,  then,  mates,  now  we 
will  look  to  the  lines." 

All  summer,  and  until  the  middle  of  October, 
Jan  continued  at  sea  ;  and  all  summer,  whether 
fishing  for  ling,  cod,  or  herring,  "  The  Fail  Mar- 
garet "  had  exceptionally  good  fortune.  There 
were  many  other  fishers  who  woke,  and  watched, 
and  toiled  in  their  fishing,  who  did  not  have 
half  her  "  takes."  "  It  is  all  Jan's  luck,"  said 
Glumm,  "  for  it  is  well  known  that  he  flings 
his  nets  and  goes  to  sleep  while  they  fill." 

"  Well,  then,  '  it  is  the  net  of  the  sleeping 
fisherman  takes : '  that  is  the  wise  saying  of 
old  times  " — and  though  Snorro  did  not  think 
of  it,  the  Shetland  proverb  was  but  the  Norse 
form  of  the  Hebrew  faith  :  "  He  giveth  his 
beloved  in  their  sleep." 

Still,  in  spite  of  his  success,  Jan  was  not 
happy.  A  married  man's  happiness  is  in  the 
hands  of  his  wife,  and  Margaret  felt  too  injured 


48  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

to  be  generous.  She  was  not  happy,  and  she 
thought  it  only  just  that  Jan  should  be  made 
to  feel  it.  He  had  disappointed  all  her  hopes 
and  aspirations  ;  she  was  not  magnanimous 
enough  to  rejoice  in  the  success  of  his  labors 
and  aims.  Besides,  his  situation  as  the  hired 
skipper  of  a  boat  was  contemptible  in  her  eyes : 
her  servant  was  engaged  to  a  man  in  the  same 
position.  Another  aggravating  circumstance 
was  that  her  old  schoolmate,  the  minister's 

niece  (a  girl  who  had  not  a  penny  piece  to  her 

f 

fortune)  was  going  to  marry  a  rich  merchant 
from  Kirkwall.  How  she  would  exult  over 
"  Margeret  Vedder  who  had  married  a  common 
fisherman/'  The  exultation  was  entirely  imagi 
nary,  but  perhaps  it  hurt  as  much  as  if  it  had 
been  actually  made. 

Success,  too,  had  made  Jan  more  independent : 
or  perhaps  he  had  grown  indifferent  to  Mar- 
garet's anger,  since  he  found  it  impossible  to 
please  her.  At  any  rate,  he  asked  his  friends 
to  his  house  without  fear  or  apology.  They  left 
their  footmarks  on  her  floors,  and  their  finger- 
marks upon  her  walls  and  cushions,  and  Jan  only 
laughed  and  said,  "  There  was,  as  every  one 
knew,  plenty  of  water  in  Shetland  to  make 


JAN'S  OPPORTUNITY.  49 

them  clean  again."  Numberless  other  little 
things  grieved  and  offended  her,  so  little  that, 
taken  separately,  they  might  have  raised  a 
smile,  but  in  the  aggregate  they  attained  the 
magnitude  of  real  wrongs. 

But,  happy  or  miserable,  time  goes  on,  and 
About  the  middle  of  October  even  the  herring 
fishing  is  over.  Peter  was  beginning  to  count 
up  his  expenses  and  his  gains.  Jan  and  Snorro 
were  saying  to  one  another,  "  In  two  days  we 
must  go  back  to  the  store."  That  is,  they 
were  trying  to  say  it,  but  the  air  was  so  full  of 
shrieks  that  no  human  voice  could  be  heard. 
For  all  around  the  boat  the  sea  was  boiling 
with  herring  fry,  and  over  them  hung  tens  of 
thousands  of  gulls  and  terns.  Marmots  and 
guillemots  were  packed  in  great  black  masses 
on  the  white  foam,  and  only  a  mad  human  mob 
of  screaming  women  and  children  could  have 
made  a  noise  comparable.  Even  that  would 
have  wanted  the  piercing  metallic  ring  of  the 
wild  birds'  shriek. 

Suddenly  Snorro  leaped  to  his  feet.  "  I  see  a 
storm,  Jan.  Lower  and  lash  down  the  mast. 
We  shall  have  bare  time." 

Jan  saw  that  the  birds  had  risen  and  were 


50  JAN   VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

making  for  the  rocks.  In  a  few  minutes  down 
came  the  wind  from  the  north-east,  and  a  streak 
of  white  rain  flying  across  the  black  sea  was  on 
top  of  "  The  Fair  Margaret "  before  the  mast  was 
well  secured.  As  for  the  nets,  Snorro  was  cut- 
ing  them  loose,  and  in  a  few  moments  the 
boat  was  tearing  down  before  the  wind.  It 
was  a  wild  squall ;  some  of  the  fishing  fleet 
went  to  the  bottom  with  all  their  crews.  "  The 
Fair  Margaret/'  at  much  risk  of  loss,  saved 
Glumm's  crew,  and  then  had  all  she  could  man- 
age to  raise  her  mizzen,  and  with  small  canvas 
edge  away  to  windward  for  the  entrance  of 
Lerwick  bay. 

Jan  was  greatly  distressed.  "  Hard  to  beaf 
is  this  thing,  Snorro,"  he  said;  "at  the  last  to 
have  such  bad  fortune." 

"  It  is  a  better  ending  than  might  have  been. 
Think  only  of  that,  Jan." 

"  But  Peter  will  count  his  lost  nets ;  there  is 
nothing  else  he  will  think  of." 

"  Between  nets  and  men's  lives,  there  is  only 
one  choice." 

Peter  said  that  also,  but  he  was  nevertheless 
very  angry.  The  loss  took  possession  of  his 
mind,  and  excluded  all  memory  of  his  gains. 


JAN'S  OPPORTUNITY.  51 

X 

"  It  was  just  like  Jan  and  Snorro,"  he  muttered, 
"  to  be  troubling  themselves  with  other  boats. 
In  a  sudden  storm,  a  boat's  crew  should  mind 
only  its  own  safety/'  These  thoughts  were  in 
his  heart,  though  he  did  not  dare  to  form  them 
into  any  clear  shape.  But  just  as  a  drop  or 
two  of  ink  will  diffuse  itself  through  a  glass  of 
pure  water  and  defile  the  whole,  so  they  pois- 
oned every  feeling  of  kindness  which  he  had  to 
Jan. 

"What  did  I  tellthee?"  he  said  to  Thora, 
bitterly.  "  Jan  does  nothing  well  but  he  spoils 
it.  Here,  at  the  end  of  the  season,  for  a  little 
gust  of  wind,  he  loses  both  nets  and  tackle." 

"  He  did  well  when  he  saved  life,  Peter." 

"  Every  man  should  mind  his  own  affairs. 
Glumm  would  have  done  that  thing  first/' 

"  Then  Glumm  would  have  been  little  of  a 
man.  And  thou,  Peter  Fae,  would  have  been 
the  first  to  tell  Glumm  so.  Thou  art  saying 
evil,  and  dost  not  mean  it." 

"  Speak  no  more.  It  is  little  a  woman  under- 
stands. Her  words  are  always  like  a  contrary 
wind." 

Peter  was  very  sulky  for  some  days,  and  when 
at  last  he  was  ready  to  settle  with  Jan,  there 


52  JAN  VEDDER'S   WIFE. 

was  a  decided  quarrel.  Jan  believed  himself  to 
be  unfairly  dealt  with,  and  bitter  words  were 
spoken  on  both  sides.  In  reality,  Peter  knew 
that  he  had  been  hard  with  his  son,  harder  by 
far  than  he  had  ever  intended  to  be ;  but  in  his 
heart  there  had  sprung  up  one  of  those  sudden 
and  unreasonable  dislikes  which  we  have  all 
experienced,  and  for  which  no  explanation  is 
possible.  It  was  not  altogether  the  loss  of  the 
nets — he  did  not  know  what  it  was — but  the 
man  he  liked,  and  praised,  and  was  proud  of 
one  week,  he  could  hardly  endure  to  see  or 
speak  to  the  next. 

"  That  ends  all  between  thee  and  me,"  said 
Peter,  pushing  a  little  pile  of  gold  toward  Jan. 
It  was  a  third  less  than  Jan  expected.  He  gave 
it  to  Margaret,  and  bade  her  "  use  it  carefully, 
as  he  might  be  able  to  make  little  more  until 
the  next  fishing  season." 

"  But  thou  wilt  work  in  the  store  this  win- 
ter?" 

"  That  I  will  not.  I  will  work  for  no  man 
who  cheats  me  of  a  third  of  my  hire." 

"  It  is  of  my  father  thou  art  speaking,  Jan 
Vedder ;  remember  that.  And  Peter  Fae's 
daughter  is  thy  wife,  theugh  little  thou  deserv- 
est  her." 


JAN'S  OPPORTUNITY.  53 

"  It  is  like  enough  that  I  am  unworthy  of 
thee  ;  but  if  I  had  chosen  a  wife  less  excellent 
than  thou  it  had  perhaps  been  better  for  me." 

"And  for  me  also." 

That  was  the  beginning  of  a  sad  end  ;  for 
Jan,  though  right  enough  at  first,  soon  put  him- 
self in  the  wrong,  as  a  man  who  is  idle,  and  has 
a  grievance,  is  almost  sure  to  do.  He  continu- 
ally talked  about  it.  On  the  contrary,  Peter 
held  his  tongue,  and  in  any  quarrel  the  man  wlvr> 
can  be  silent  in  the  end  has  the  popular  sympa- 
thy. Then,  in  some  way  or  other,  Peter  Fae 
touched  nearly  every  body  in  Lerwick.  He 
jave  them  work,  or  he  bought  their  produce. 
They  owed  him  money,  or  they  expected  a 
avor  from  him.  However  much  they  sympa- 
hized  with  Jan,  they  could  not  afford  to  quar- 
rel with  Peter. 

Only  Michael  Snorro  was  absolutely  and 
purely  true  to  him ;  but  oh,  what  truth  there 
was  in  Michael !  Jan's  wrongs  were  his 
wrongs  ;  Jan's  anger  was  but  the  reflection  of 
his  own. 

He  watched  over  him,  he  sympathized  with 
him,  he  loved  him  entirely,  with  a  love  "  won- 
derful, passing  the  love  of  woman  " 


CHAPTER   IV. 

THE   DESOLATED   HOME. 

*  For  we  two,  face  to  face, 
God  knows  are  further  parted 
Than  were  a  whole  world's  space 
Between . " 

"  Lost  utterly  from  home  and  me, 
Lonely,  regretful  and  remote." 

JAN  now  began  to  hang  all  day  about  Ragon 
Torr's,  and  to  make  friends  with  men  as  pur- 
poseless as  himself.  He  drank  more  and  more, 
and  was  the  leader  in  all  the  dances  and  merry- 
makings with  which  Shetlanders  beguile  their 
long  winter.  He  was  very  soon  deep  in  Torr's 
debt,  and  this  circumstance  carried  him  the 
next  step  forward  on  an  evil  road. 

One  night  Torr  introduced  him  to  Hoi  Ska- 
ger,  a  Dutch  skipper,  whose  real  cargo  was  a 
contraband  one  of  tea,  brandy,  tobacco  and 
French  goods.  Jan  was  in  the  very  mood  to 


THE  DESOLA  TED  HOME.  55 

join  him,  and  Skagei  was  glad  enough  of  Jan. 
Very  soon  he  began  to  be  away  from  home  for 
three  and  four  weeks  at  a  time.  Peter  and 
Margaret  knew  well  the  objects  of  these 
absences,  but  they  would  have  made  themselves 
very  unpopular  if  they  had  spoken  of  them. 
Smuggling  was  a  thing  every  one  had  a  hand 
in  ;  rich  and  poor  alike  had  their  venture,  and 
a  wise  ignorance,  and  deaf  and  dumb  ignoring  of 
the  fact,  was  a  social  tenet  universally  observed. 
If  Jan  came  home  and  brought  his  wife  a  piece 
of  rich  silk  or  lace,  or  a  gold  trinket,  she  took 
it  without  any  unpleasant  curiosity.  If  Peter 
were  offered  a  cask  of  French  brandy  at  a 
nominal  price,  he  never  asked  any  embarrassing 
questions.  Consciences  tender  enough  toward 
the  claims  of  God,  evaded  without  a  scruple  the 
rendering  of  Caesar's  dues. 

So  when  Jan  disappeared  for  a  few  weeks, 
and  then  returned  with  money  in  his  pocket, 
and  presents  for  his  friends,  he  was  welcomed 
without  question.  And  he  liked  the  life  ;  liked 
it  so  well  that  when  the  next  fishing  season 
came  round  he  refused  every  offer  made  him. 
He  gained  more  with  Hoi  Skager,  and  the  ex- 
citement of  eluding  the  coast  guard  or  of  giv- 


56  fAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

ing  them  a  good  chase,  suited  Jan  exactly.  The 
spirit  of  his  forefathers  ruled  him  absolutely, 
and  he  would  have  fought  for  his  cargo  or  gone 
down  with  the  ship. 

Snorro  was  very  proud  of  him.  The  morality 
of  Jan's  employment  he  never  questioned,  and 
Jan's  happy  face  and  fine  clothing  gave  him 
the  greatest  pleasure.  He  was  glad  that  he 
had  escaped  Peter's  control ;  and  when  Jan, 
now  and  then,  went  to  the  store  after  it  was 
shut,  and  sat  an  hour  with  him,  no  man  in  Shet- 
land was  as  proud  and  happy  as  Michael 
Snorro.  Very  often  Jan  brought  him  a  book, 
and  on  one  occasion  it  was  the  wondrous  old 
"  Pilgrim's  Progress,"  full  of  wood-cuts.  That 
book  was  a  lifelong  joy  to  Snorro,  and  he 
gave  to  Jan  all  the  thanks  and  the  credit  of  it. 
"Jan  brought  him  every  thing  pleasant  he  had. 
He  was  so  handsome,  and  so  clever,  and  so 
good,  and  yet  he  loved  him — the  poor,  ignorant 
Snorro ! "  So  Snorro  reasoned,  and  accord- 
ingly he  loved  his  friend  with  all  his  soul. 

At  Jan's  house  many  changes  were  taking 
place.  In  the  main,  Margaret  had  her  house 
very  much  to  herself.  No  one  soiled  its  ex- 
quisite cleanliness.  The  expense  of  keeping 


THE  DESOLA  TED  HOME.  57 

it  was  small.  She  was  saving  money  on  every 
hand.  When  Jan  came  home  with  a  rich  pres- 
ent in  his  hand,  it  was  easy  to  love  so  hand- 
some and  generous  a  man,  and  if  Jan  permitted 
her  to  love  him  in  her  own  way,  she  was  very 
glad  to  do  so.  The  tie  between  man  and  wife 
is  one  hard  to  break.  What  tugs  it  will 
bear  for  years,  we  have  all  seen  and  won- 
dered at ;  and  during  this  interval  if  there  were 
days  when  they  were  wretched,  there  were  many 
others  when  they  were  very  happy  together. 
The  conditions  rested  mainly  with  Margaret. 
When  she  could  forget  all  her  small  ambi- 
tions and  disappointments,  and  give  to  her 
husband  the  smile  and  kiss  he  still  valued 
above  every  thing,  then  Jan  was  proud  and 
happy  and  anxious  to  please  her.  But  Mar- 
garet was  moody  as  the  skies  above  her,  and 
sometimes  Jan's  sunniest  tempers  were  in 
themselves  an  offense.  It  is  ill  indeed  with 
the  man  who  is  bound  to  misery  by  the  cords 
of  a  woman's  peevish  and  unreasonable 
temper. 

For  a  year  and  a  half  Jan  remained  with  Hoi 
Skager,  but  during  this  time  his  whole  nature 
deteriorated.  Among  the  Shetland  fishermen 


58  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

mutual  forbearance  and  mutual  reliance  was 
the  rule.  In  position  the  men  were  nearly 
equal,  and  there  was  no  opportunity  for  an 
overbearing  spirit  to  exercise  itself.  But  it  was 
very  different  with  Skager's  men.  They  were 
of  various  nationalities,  and  of  reckless  and 
unruly  tempers.  The  strictest  discipline  was 
necessary,  and  Jan  easily  learned  to  be  tyrannical 
and  unjust,  to  use  passionate  and  profane  lan- 
guage, to  drink  deep,  and  to  forget  the  Sabbath, 
a  day  which  had  been  so  sacred  to  him. 

In  his  own  home  the  change  was  equally 
apparent.  Margaret  began  to  tremble  before 
the  passions  she  evoked ;  and  Jan  to  mock  at 
the  niceties  that  had  hitherto  snubbed  and 
irritated  him.  Once  he  had  been  so  easy  to 
please ;  now  all  her  small  conciliations  some, 
times  failed.  The  day  had  gone  by  for  them. 
The  more  she  humbled  herself,  the  less  Jan 
aeemed  to  care  for  her  complaisance.  To  be 
kind  too  late,  to  be  kind  when  the  time  for 
kindness  is  passed  by,  that  is  often  the  greatest 
injury  of  all. 

At  the  end  of  eighteen  months  Jan  and 
Skager  quarreled.  Skager  had  become  intimate 
with  Peter  Fae,  and  Peter  was  doubtless  to 


THE  DESOLA  TED  HOME,  59 

blame.  At  any  rate,  Jan  was  sure  he  was,  and 
he  spent  his  days  in  morose  complaining,  and 
futile  threats  of  vengeance — futile,  because  the 
poor  man's  wrath  always  falls  upon  himself. 
When  Peter  heard  them  he  could  afford  to  say 
contemptuously — "  It  is  well  known  that  Jan 
Vedder  has  a  long  tongue  and  short  hands  ;  " 
or,  "  Between  saying  and  doing  the  thing  is  a 
great  way." 

In  a  few  weeks  even  Ragon  Torr  got  weary 
of  Jan's  ill-temper  and  heroics.  Besides,  h*- 
was  in  his  debt,  and  there  seemed  no  prospect 
of  speedy  work  for  him.  Upon  the  whole,  it 
was  a  miserable  winter  for  the  Vedders.  Jan 
made  very  little.  Sometimes  he  killed  a  seal, 
or  brought  in  a  bag  of  birds,  but  his  earnings 
were  precarious,  and  Margaret  took  care  that 
his  table  should  be  in  accordance.  She  had 
money,  of  course,  but  it  was  her  own  money, 
and  a  thing  with  which  Jan  had  no  right.  She 
ate  her  meager  fare  of  salt  fish  and  barley  bread 
with  a  face  of  perfect  resignation ;  she  gave  up 
her  servant  and  made  no  complaints,  and  she 
did  think  it  a  most  shameful  injustice  that, 
after  all,  Jan  should  be  cross  with  her.  It  did 
not  strike  her,  that  a  good  meal,  even  thougl 


60  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

she  had  procured  it  from  her  own  private  hoard, 
might  have  been  a  better  thing  than  the  most 
saintly  patience.  There  is  much  said  about 
the  wickedness  of  doing  evil  that  good  may 
come.  Alas!  there  is  such  a  thing  as  doing 
good  that  evil  may  come. 

One  afternoon  in  early  spring  Jan  saw  a  flock 
of  wild  swans  soaring  majestically  on  their 
strong  wings  toward  a  lake  which  was  a  favorite 
resting  place  with  them.  He  took  his  gun  and 
followed  after.  They  were  gathered  in  the 
very  middle  of  the  lake  ;  his  dog  could  not 
swim  so  far,  neither  could  his  shot  reach  them. 
It  seemed  as  if  every  promise  mocked  him. 
Sulky  and  disappointed,  he  was  returning  home 
when  he  met  the  Udaller  Tulloch.  He  was 
jogging  along  on  his  little  rough  pony,  his 
feet  raking  the  ground,  and  his  prehistoric  hat 
tied  firmly  on  the  back  of  his  head. 

But  in  spite  of  his  primitive  appearance  he 
was  a  man  of  wealth  and  influence,  the  banker 
of  the  island,  liked  and  trusted  of  all  men — ex- 
cept Peter  Fae.  With  Peter  he  had  come  often 
in  conflict ;  he  had  superseded  him  in  a  civil 
office,  he  had  spoken  slightingly  of  some  of 
Peter's  speculations,  and,  above  all  offenses,  in 


THE  DESOLA  TED  HOME.  61 

a  recent  kirk  election  he  had  been  chosen 
Deacon  instead  of  Peter.  They  were  the  two 
rich  men  of  Lerwick,  and  they  were  jealous  and 
distrustful  of  each  other. 

"Jan  Vedder, "  said  Tulloch,  cheerily,  "I 
would  speak  with  thee;  come  to  my  house 
within  an  hour." 

It  was  not  so  fine  a  house  as  Peter's,  but  Jan 
liked  its  atmosphere.  Small  glass  barrels  of 
brandy  stood  on  the  sideboard  ;  there  was  a 
case  of  Hollands  in  the  chimney  corner ;  fine 
tobacco,  bloaters,  and  sturgeons'  roes  were  in 
comfortable  proximity.  A  bright  fire  of  peats 
glowed  on  the  ample  hearth,  and  the  Udaller 
sat  eating  and  drinking  before  it.  He  made 
Jan  join  him,  and  without  delay  entered  upon 
his  business. 

"  I  want  to  sell '  The  Solan/  Jan.  She  is  worth 
a  thousand  pounds  for  a  coaster;  or,  if  thou 
wishes,  thou  could  spoil  Skager's  trips  with  her. 
She  is  half  as  broad  as  she  is  long,  with  high 
bilge,  and  a  sharp  bottom ;  the  very  boat  for 
these  seas — wilt  thou  buy  her?" 

"  If  I  had  the  money,  nothing  would  be  so 
much  to  my  liking." 

"  Well,  then,  thy  wife  brought  me  ^50  yes- 


62  JAN  VEDDER' S  WIFE. 

terday  ;  that  makes  thy  account  a  little  over 
£600.  I  will  give  thee  a  clear  bill  of  sale  and 
trust  thee  for  the  balance.  '  Tis  a  great  pity  to 
see  a  good  lad  like  thee  going  to  waste.  It  is 
that." 

"  If  I  was  in  thy  debt,  then  thou  would  own 
a,  part  of  me.  I  like  well  to  be  my  own  mas- 
ter." 

"  A  skipper  at  sea  doth  what  he  will ;  and 
every  one  knows  that  Jan  Vedder  is  not  one 
that  serves.  Remember,  thou  wilt  be  skipper 
of  thy — own — boat !  " 

Jan's  eyes  flashed  joyfully,  but  he  said,  "  My 
wife  may  not  like  I  should  use  the  money  for 
this  purpose." 

"  It  is  a  new  thing  for  a  man  to  ask  his  wife 
if  he  can  spend  this  or  that,  thus  or  so.  And 
to  what  good?  Margaret  Vedder  would  speak 
to  her  father,  and  thou  knows  if  Peter  Fae  love 
thee — or  not." 

These  words  roused  the  worst  part  of  Jan's 
nature.  He  remembered,  in  a  moment,  all  the 
envy  and  wonder  he  would  cause  by  sailing  out 
of  harbor  skipper  of  his  own  boat.  It  was  the 
very  temptation  that  was  irresistible  to  him.  He 
entered  into  Tulloch's  plan  with  all  his  heart, 


THE  DESOLA  TED  HOME.  63 

and  before  he  left  him  he  was  in  a  mood  to 
justify  any  action  which  would  further  his  desire. 
"  Only  give  not  thy  thoughts  speech,  Jan/' 
said  Tulloch  at  parting ;  "  and  above  all  things, 
trust  not  thy  plans  to  a  woman.      When  will 
hou  tell  me  '  yes  '  or  '  no  '  ?  " 
"To-morrow." 

But  Jan  was  not  the  man  to  hold  counsel 
with  his  own  soul.  He  wanted  human  advice 
and  sympathy,  and  he  felt  sure  of  Snorro.  He 
went  straight  to  him,  but  the  store  was  still 
open,  and  Peter  Fae  was  standing  in  the  door, 
three  of  his  neighbors  with  him.  He  looked  at 
Jan  scornfully  and  asked — "Well,  how  many 
swans  did  thou  get  ?  " 

4i  I  have  been  after  a  purchase,  Peter  Fae." 
"  Good.     How  wilt  thou  pay  for  it,  then  ?  " 
"  I  will  take  my  own  to  pay  for  it." 
Peter  laughed,  and  turning  away,  answered, 
-'  Why,  then,  do  I  speak  to  thee  ?     Only  God 
understands  fools." 

This  conversation  irritated  Jan  far  more 
than  many  an  actual  wrong  had  done.  "  I  have 
indeed  been  a  fool,"  he  said  to  Snorro,  "but 
now  I  will  look  well  to  what  concerns  my  own 
interest." 


04  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

Then  he  told  Michael  of  Tulloch's  offer,  and 
added,  "  At  last,  then,  I  have  the  sum  of  my 
wife's  savings,  and  I  will  show  her  she  has  been 
swing  for  a  good  end.  What  dost  thou  think, 
S^orro  ?  " 

-'  I  think  the  money  is  thine.  All  thine  has 
b^en  hers,  or  she  had  not  saved  so  much  ;  all 
hers  ought  then  to  be  thine.  But  it  is  well  and 
right  to  tell  her  of  Tulloch's  offer  to  thee.  She 
may  like  to  give  thee  as  a  gift  what  else  thou 
must  take  without  any  pleasure." 

Jan  laughed ;  it  was  an  unpleasant  laugh, 
and  did  not  at  all  brighten  his  face,  but  he 
resolved  to  a  certain  extent  on  taking  Snorro's 
advice.  It  was  quite  midnight  when  he  reached 
his  home,  but  Margaret  was  sitting  by  a  few 
red  peats  knitting.  She  was  weeping,  also,  and 
her  tears  annoyed  him. 

"  Thou  art  ever  crying  like  a  cross  child,"  he 
said.  "  Now  what  art  thou  crying  for  ?  " 

"  For  thy  love,  my  husband.  If  thou  would 
care  a  little  for  me  !  " 

"  That  is  also  what  I  say.  If  thou  would 
care  a  little  for  me  and  for  my  well-doing !  Lis- 
ten, now  !  I  have  heard  where  I  can  buy  a 
good  boat  for  £600.  Wilt  thou  ask  thy  father 


THE  DESOLATED  HOME.  65 

for  so  much  of  thy  tocher?  To  have  this  boat, 
Margaret,  would  make  me  the  happiest  man  in 
Shetland.  I  know  that  thou  can  manage  it  if 
thou  wilt.  Dear  wife,  do  this  thing  for  me.  I 
ask  thee  with  all  my  heart. "  And  he  bent 
toward  her,  took  the  knitting  away,  and  held 
her  hands  in  his  own. 

Margaret  dropped  her  eyes,  and  Jan  watched 
her  with  a  painful  interest.  Did  she  love  him 
or  her  £600  better?  Her  face  paled  and  flushed. 
She  looked  up  quickly,  and  her  lips  parted. 
Jan  believed  that  she  was  going  to  say — "  1 
have  £600,  and  I  will  gladly  give  it  to  thee." 
He  was  ready  to  fold  her  to  his  breast,  to  love 
her,  as  he  had  loved  her  that  day  when  he  had 
first  called  her  "wife."  Alas  !  after  a  slight  hes- 
itation, she  dropped  her  pale  face  and  answered 
slowly — "  I  will  not  ask  my  father.  I  might  as 
well  ask  the  sea  for  fresh  water." 

Jan  let  her  hands  fall,  and  stood  up.  "  I  see 
now  that  all  talk  with  thee  will  come  to  little. 
What  thou  wants,  is  that  men  should  give  thee 
all,  and  thou  give  nothing.  When  thou  sayest, 
'thy  love,  husband/  thou  means  '  thy  money, 
husband ;'  and  if  there  is  no  money,  then  there 
is  ever  sighs  and  tears.  Many  things  thou  hast 


66  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

yet  to  learn  of  a  wife's  duty,  and  very  soon  I 
will  give  thee  a  lesson  I  had  done  well  to  teach 
thee  long  since." 

"  I  have  borne  much  from  thee,  Jan,  but  at 
the  next  wrong  thou  does  me,  I  will  go  back  to 
my  father.  That  is  what  I  shall  do." 

"  We  will  see  to  that." 

"  Yes,  we  will  see  !  "  And  she  rose  proudly, 
and  with  flashing  eyes  gathered  up  her  knitting 
and  her  wool  and  left  the  room. 

The  next  morning  Jan  andTulloch  concluded 
their  bargain.  "  The  Solan  "  was  put  in  thorough 
order,  and  loaded  with  a  coasting  cargo.  It 
was  supposed  that  Tulloch's  nephew  would  sail 
her,  and  Jan  judged  it  wisest  to  show  no  inter- 
est in  the  matter.  But  an  hour  after  all  was 
ready,  he  drew  the  £600  out  of  Tulloch's  bank, 
paid  it  down  for  the  boat,  and  sailed  her  out  of 
Lerwick  harbor  at  the  noon-tide.  In  ten  min- 
utes afterward  a  score  of  men  had  called  in 
Peter  Fae's  store  and  told  him. 

He  was  both  puzzled  and  annoyed.  Why 
had  Tulloch  interfered  with  Jan  unless  it  was 
for  his,  Peter's,  injury?  From  the  secrecy 
maintained,  he  suspected  some  scheme  against 
his  interests.  Snorro,  on  being  questioned, 


THE  DESOLA  TED  HOME.  67 

could  truthfully  say  that  Jan  had  not  told  him 
he  was  to  leave  Lerwick  that  morning ;  in  fact, 
Jan  had  purposely  left  Snorro  ignorant  of  his 
movements.  But  the  good  fellow  could  not 
hide  the  joy  he  felt,  and  Peter  looked  at  him 
wrathfully. 

It  was  seldom  Peter  went  to  see  his  daughter, 
but  that  evening  he  made  her  a  call.  What- 
ever she  knew  she  would  tell  him,  and  he  did 
not  feel  as  if  he  could  rest  until  he  got  the  clue 
to  Jan's  connection  with  Tulloch.  But  when 
he  named  it  to  Margaret,  he  found  she  v/as 
totally  ignorant  of  Jan's  departure.  The  news 
shocked  her.  Her  work  dropped  from  her 
hand  ;  she  was  faint  with  fear  and  amazement. 
Jan  had  never  before  left  her  in  anger,  without 
a  parting  word  or  kiss.  Her  father's  complaints 
and  fears  about  Tulloch  she  scarcely  heeded. 
Jan's  behavior  toward  herself  was  the  only 
thought  in  her  mind.  Peter  learned  nothing 
from  her;  but  his  irritation  was  much  increased 
by  what  he  considered  Margaret's  unreasonable 
sorrow  over  a  bad  husband.  He  could  not 
bear  a  crying  woman,  and  his  daughter's  sobs 
angered  him. 

"  Come  thou  home  to  thy  mother,"  he  said, 


08  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

"  when  thy  eyes  are  dry ;  but  bring  no  tears  to 
my  house  for  Jan  Vedder." 

Then  Margaret  remembered  that  she  had 
threatened  Jan  with  this  very  thing.  Evidently 
he  had  dared  her  to  do  it  by  this  new  neglect 
and  unkindness.  She  wandered  up  and  down 
the  house,  full  of  wretched  fears  and  memories  ; 
love,  anger,  pride,  each  striving  for  the  mastery. 
Perhaps  the  bitterest  of  all  her  thoughts  to- 
ward  her  husband  arose  from  the  humiliating 
thought  of  "what  people  would  say."  For 
Margaret  was  a  slave  to  a  wretched  thraldom 
full  of  every  possible  tragedy — she  would  see 
much  of  her  happiness  or  misery  through  the 
eyes  of  others. 

She  felt  bitterly  that  night  that  her  married 
life  had  been  a  failure  ;  but  failures  are  gener- 
ally brought  about  by  want  of  patience  and 
want  of  faith.  Margaret  had  never  had  much 
patience  with  Jan ;  she  had  lost  all  faith  in 
him.  "  Why  should  she  not  go  home  as  her 
father  told  her?"  This  question  she  kept 
asking  herself.  Jan  had  disappointed  all  her 
hopes.  As  for  Jan's  hopes,  she  did  not  ask 
herself  any  questions  about  them.  She  looked 
around  the  handsome  home  she  had  given  him; 


THE  DESOLA  TED  HOME.  69 

she  considered  the  profitable  business  which 
might  have  been  his  on  her  father's  retirement 
or  death ;  and  she  thought  a  man  must  be 
wicked  who  could  regard  lightly  such  blessings. 
As  she  passed  a  glass  she  gazed  upon  her  own 
beauty  with  a  mournful  smile  and  thought 
anew,  how  unworthy  of  all  Jan  had  been. 

At  daybreak  she  began  to  put  carefully  away 
such  trifles  of  household  decoration  as  she 
valued  most.  Little  ornaments  bought  in 
Edinburgh,  pieces  of  fancy  work  done  in  her 
school  days,  fine  china,  or  glass,  or  napery. 
She  had  determined  to  lock  up  the  house  and 
go  to  her  father's  until  Jan  returned.  Then 
he  would  be  obliged  to  come  for  her,  and  in 
any  dispute  she  would  at  least  have  the  benefit 
of  a  strong  position.  Even  with  this  thought, 
full  as  it  was  of  the  most  solemn  probabilities, 
there  came  into  her  niggardly  calculations  the 
consideration  of  its  economy.  She  would  not 
only  save  all  the  expenses  of  housekeeping, 
but  all  her  time  could  be  spent  in  making  fine 
knitted  goods,  and  a  great  many  garments 
might  thus  be  prepared  before  the  annual  fair. 

This  train  of  ideas  suggested  her  bank  book. 
That  must  certainly  go  with  her,  and  a  faint 


70  JAN  VEDDER*S  WIFE, 

smile  crossed  her  face  as  she  imagined  the  sun 
prise  of  her  father  and  mother  at  the  amount 
it  vouched  for — that  was,  if  she  concluded  to 
tell  them.  She  went  for  it ;  of  course  it  was 
gone.  At  first  she  did  not  realize  the  fact; 
then,  as  the  possibility  of  its  loss  smote  her,  she 
trembled  with  terror,  and  hurriedly  turned 
over  and  over  the  contents  of  the  drawer. 
"  Gone  !  "  She  said  it  with  a  quick,  sharp  cry, 
like  that  of  a  woman  mortally  wounded.  She 
could  find  it  nowhere,  and  after  five  minutes' 
search,  she  sat  down  upon  her  bedside,  and 
abandoned  herself  to  agonizing  grief. 

Yes,  it  was  pitiable.  She  had  begun  the 
book  with  pennies  saved  from  sweeties  and 
story-books,  from  sixpences,  made  by  knitting 
through  hours  when  she  would  have  liked  to 
play.  The  ribbons  and  trinkets  of  her  girlhood 
and  maidenhood  were  in  it,  besides  many  a 
little  comfort  that  Jan  and  herself  had  been 
defrauded  of.  Her  hens  had  laid  for  it,  her 
Seese  been  plucked  for  it,  her  hands  had  con- 
stantly toiled  for  it.  It  had  been  the  idol  upon 
the  hearthstone  to  which  had  been  offered  up 
the  happiness  of  her  youth,  and  before  which 
love  lay  slain. 


THE  DESOLA  TED  HOME,  7 1 

At  first  its  loss  was  all  she  could  take  in,  but 
very  quickly  she  began  to  connect  the  loss  with 
Jan,  and  with  the  ;£6oo  he  had  asked  her  to 
get  for  him  at  their  last  conversation.  With 
this  conviction  her  tears  ceased,  her  face  grew 
hard  and  white  as  ice.  If  Jan  had  used  her 
money  she  was  sure  that  she  would  never  speak 
to  him,  never  see  him  again.  At  that  hour  she 
almost  hated  him.  He  was  only  the  man  who 
had  taken  her  £600.  She  forgot  that  he  had 
been  her  lover  and  her  husband.  As  soon  as 
she  could  control  herself  she  fled  to  her  father's 
house,  and  kneeling  down  by  Peter's  side 
sobbed  out  the  trouble  that  had  filled  her  cup 
to  overflowing. 

This  was  a  sorrow  Peter  could  heartily  sym- 
pathize with.  He  shed  tears  of  anger  and  mor- 
tification, as  he  wiped  away  those  of  his  daugh- 
ter.. It  was  a  great  grief  to  him  that  he  could 
not  prosecute  Jan  for  theft.  But  he  was  quite 
aware  that  the  law  recognized  Jan's  entire  right 
to  whatever  was  his  wife's.  Neither  the  fathei 
nor  daughter  remembered  how  many  years  Jan 
had  respected  his  wife's  selfishness,  and  for, 
given  her  want  of  confidence  in  him  ;  the  thing 
he  had  done  was  an  unpardonable  wrong. 


72  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

Thora  said  very  little.  She  might  have 
reminded  Peter  that  he  had  invested  all  her  for- 
tune in  his  business,  that  he  always  pocketed 
her  private  earnings.  But  to  what  purpose  ? 
She  did  not  much  blame  Jan  for  taking  at  last, 
what  many  husbands  would  have  taken  at  first, 
but  she  was  angry  enough  at  his  general  unkind* 
ness  to  Margaret.  Yet  it  was  not  without 
many  forebodings  of  evil  she  saw  Peter  store 
away  in  an  empty  barn  all  the  pretty  furni- 
ture of  Margaret's  house,  and  put  the  key  of 
the  deserted  house  in  his  pocket. 

"And  I  am  so  miserable!"  wailed  the 
wretched  wife,  morning,  noon,  and  night.  Her 
money  and  her  husband  supplied  her  with 
perpetual  lamentations,  varied  only  by  pitiful 
defenses  of  her  own  conduct :  "  My  house  was 
ever  clean  and  comfortable  !  No  man's  table 
was  better  served  !  I  was  never  idle !  I  wasted 
nothing  !  I  never  was  angry !  And  yet  I  am 
robbed,  and  betrayed,  and  deserted  !  There 
never  was  so  miserable  a  woman — so  unjustly 
miserable !  "  etc. 

"Alas!  my  child,"  said  Thora,  one  day,  "did 
you  then  expect  to  drink  of  the  well  of  hap- 
piness before  death  ?  This  is  the  great  saying 


THE  DESOLA  TED  HOME.  73 

which  we  all  forget :  There — not  here — there 
the  wicked  cease  from  troubling  ;  there  the 
weary  are  at  rest.  There  God  has  promised  to 
wipe  away  all  tears,  but  not  here,  Margaret, 
not 


CHAPTER  V. 

SHIPWRECK. 

*' A  man  I  am,  crossed  with  adversity,*' 

"  There  is  some  soul  01  goodness  in  things  evi; 
Would  men  observmgly  distill  it  out  '" 

NO  man  set  more  nakedly  side  by  side  the 
clay  and  spirit  of  his  double  nature  than 
Jan  Vedder.  No  man  wished  so  much  and  willed 
so  little.  Long  before  he  returned  from  his 
first  voyage,  he  became  sorry  for  the  deception 
he  had  practiced  upon  his  wife,  and  determined 
to  acknowledge  to  her  his  fault,  as  far  as  he  saw 
it  to  be  a  fault.  He  was  so  little  fond  of  money, 
that  it  was  impossible  for  him  to  understand 
the  full  extent  of  Margaret's  distress  ;  but  he 
knew,  at  least,  that  she  would  be  deeply  grieved, 
and  he  was  quite  willing  to  promise  her,  that  as 
soon  as  The  Solan  was  clear  of  debt,  he 
would  begin  to  repay  her  the  money  she  prized 
so  much. 

Her  first  voyage  was  highly  successful,  and  he 


SHIPWRECK.  75 

was,  as  usual,  sanguine  beyond  all  reasonable 
probabilities ;  quite  sure,  indeed,  that  Tulloch 
and  Margaret  could  both  be  easily  paid  off  in 
two  years.  Surely  two  years  was  a  very  short 
time  for  a  wife  to  trust  her  husband  with  £600. 
Arguing,  then,  from  his  own  good  intentions, 
and  his  own  hopes  and  calculations,  he  had  per- 
suaded himself  before  he  reached  Lerwick 
again  that  the  forced  loan  was  really  nothing  to 
make  any  fuss  about,  that  it  would  doubtless  be 
a  very  excellent  thing,  and  fhat  Margaret  would 
be  sure  to  see  it  as  he  did. 

The  Solan  touched  Lerwick  in  the  after- 
noon. Jan  sent  a  message  to  Tulloch,  and 
hastened  to  his  home.  Even  at  a  distance  the 
lonely  air  of  the  place  struck  him  unpleasantly, 
There  was  no  smoke  from  the  chimneys,  th< 
windows  were  all  closed.  At  first  he  thought, 
"  Margaret  is  gone  for  a  day's  visit  somewhere— 
it  is  unlucky  then."  But  as  he  reached  th* 
closed  gate  other  changes  made  themselve 
apparent.  His  Newfoundland  dog,  that  ha<i 
always  known  his  step  afar  off,  and  came 
bounding  to  meet  him,  did  not  answer  his 
whistle.  Though  he  called  Brenda,  his  pet 
seal,  repeatedly,  she  came  not ;  she,  that  had 


76  JAN  VEDDER'S 

always  met  him  with  an  almost  human  affection. 
He  perceived  before  his  feet  touched  the 
threshold  how  it  was:  Margaret  had  gone  to 
her  father's,  or  the  animals  and  poultry  would 
have  been  in  the  yard. 

His  first  impulse  was  to  follow  her  there  and 
bring  her  home,  and  he  felt  in  his  pocket  for 
the  golden  chain  and  locket  he  had  brought  her 
as  a  peace-offering.  Then  he  reflected  that 
by  the  time  he  could  reach  Peter's  house  it 
would  be  the  tea-hour,  and  he  did  not  intend 
to  discuss  the  differences  between  Margaret  and 
himself  in  Peter's  presence.  Thora's  good 
influence  he  could  count  upon  ;  but  he  knew  it 
would  be  useless  either  to  reason  with  or  pro- 
pitiate Peter.  For  fully  five  minutes  he  stood 
at  his  bolted  door  wondering  what  to  do.  He 
felt  his  position  a  cruel  one ;  just  home  from  a 
prosperous  voyage,  and  no  one  to  say  a  kind 
word.  Yes,  he  could  go  to  Torr's  ;  he  would 
find  a  welcome  there.  But  the  idea  of  the 
noisy  room  and  inquisitive  men  was  disagree- 
able to  him.  Snorro  he  could  not  see  for  some 
hours.  He  determined  at  last  that  the  quiet  of 
his  own  lonely  home  was  the  best  place  in 
which  to  consider  this  new  phase  of 


SHIPWRECK.  77 

between  him  and  his  wife,  and  while  doing  so 
he  could  make  a  cup  of  tea,  and  wash  and 
refresh  himself  before  the  interview. 

He  unfastened  the  kitchen  shutter  and  leaped 
in.  Then  the  sense  of  his  utter  desolation 
smote  him.  Mechanically  he  walked  through 
the  despoiled,  dusty,  melancholy  rooms.  Not 
a  stool  left  on  which  he  could  sit  down.  He 
laughed  aloud — that  wretched  laugh  of  reckless 
sorrow,  that  is  far  more  pitiful  than  weeping. 
Then  he  went  to  Torr's.  People  had  seen  him 
on  the  way  to  his  home,  and  no  one  had  been 
kind  enough  to  prevent  his  taking  the  useless^ 
wretched  journey.  He  felt  deeply  wounded 
and  indignant.  There  were  not  half  a  dozen 
men  or  women  in  Lerwick  whose  position  in 
regard  to  Jan  would  have  excused  their  inter- 
ference, but  of  that  he  did  not  think.  Every 
man  and  woman  knew  his  shame  and  wrong. 
Some  one  might  have  warned  him.  Torr 
shook  his  head  sympathetically  at  Jan's  com- 
plaints, and  gave  him  plenty  of  liquor,  and  in 
an  hour  he  had  forgotten  his  grief  in  a  drunken 
stupor. 

The  next  morning  he  went  to  Peter's  house 
to  see  his  wife.  Peter  knew  of  his  arrival,  and 


78  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

he  had  informed  himself  of  all  that  had  hap. 
pened  in  Torr's  room.  Jan  had,  of  course, 
spoken  hastily  and  passionately,  and  had  drunk 
deeply,  and  none  of  his  faults  had  been  kept 
from  Margaret.  She  had  expected  him  to 
come  at  once  for  her,  to  be  in  a  passion  prob- 
ably, and  to  say  some  hard  things,  but  she  also 
had  certainly  thought  he  would  say  them  to 
her,  and  not  to  strangers.  Hour  after  hour 
she  watched,  sick  with  longing  and  fear  and 
anger,  hour  after  hour,  until  Peter  came  in, 
stern  and  dour,  and  said : 

"Get  thee  to  thy  bed,  Margaret.  Jan 
Vedder  has  said  words  of  thee  this  night 
that  are  not  to  be  forgiven,  and  he  is  now 
fathoms  deep  in  Torr's  liquor.  See  thou  speak 
not  with  him  —  good  nor  bad,"  and  Peter 
struck  the  table  so  angrily,  that  both  women 
were  frightened  into  a  silence,  which  he  took 
for  consent. 

So  when  Jan  asked  to  see  his  wife,  Thora 
stood  in  the  door,  and  in  her  sad,  still  way  told 
him  that  Peter  had  left  strict  orders  against  his 
entering  the  house. 

"  But  thou,  mother,  wilt  ask  Margaret  to 
come  out  here  and  speak  to  me  ?  Yes,  thou 


SHIPWRECK.  7X 

wilt  do  that,"  and  he  eagerly  pressed  in  Thora's 
hand  the  little  present  he  had  brought.  "Give 
her  this,  and  tell  her  I  wait  here  for  her." 

After  ten  minutes'  delay,  Thora  returned  and 
gave  him  the  trinket  back.  Margaret  wanted 
her  £600  and  not  a  gold  locket,  and  Jan  had 
not  even  sent  her  a  message  about  it.  His 
return  had  brought  back  the  memory  of  her 
loss  in  all  its  first  vividness.  She  had  had  a 
dim  hope  that  Jan  would  bring  her  money 
with  him,  that  he  had  only  taken  it  to  frighten 
her ;  to  lose  this  hope  was  to  live  over  again 
her  first  keen  sorrow.  In  this  mood  it  was 
easy  for  her  to  say  that  she  would  not  see  him, 
or  speak  to  him,  or  accept  his  gift;  let  him 
give  her  back  her  £600,  that  was  the  whole 
burden  of  her  answer. 

Jan  put  the  unfortunate  peace-offering  in 
his  pocket,  and  walked  away  without  a  word. 
"  He  will  trouble  thee  no  more,  Margaret," 
said  Thora,  quietly.  Margaret  fancied  there 
was  a  tone  of  reproach  or  regret  in  the  voice. 
It  angered  her  anew,  and  she  answered,  "  It  is 
well ;  it  were  better  if  he  had  never  come  at 
all."  But  in  her  heart  she  expected  Jan  to 
come,  and  come  again,  until  she  pardoned  him, 


8o  fAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

She  had  no  intention  of  finally  casting  him  off. 
She  meant  that  he  should  suffer  sufficiently  to 
insure  his  future  good  behavior.  She  had  to 
suffer  with  him,  and  she  regarded  this  as  the 
hardest  and  most  unjust  part  of  the  discipline. 
She,  who  had  always  done  her  duty  in  all 
things. 

It  is  true  she  had  permitted  her  father  to 
dismantle  their  home,  but  she  had  had  a 
distinct  reason  for  that,  and  one  which  she 
intended  to  have  told  Jan,  had  he  come  back 
under  circumstances  to  warrant  the  confidence. 
In  fact  she  had  begun  to  dislike  the  house  very 
much.  It  was  too  small,  too  far  away  from  her 
mother,  and  from  the  town  ;  besides  which, 
Peter  had  the  very  house  she  longed  for  vacant, 
and  she  hoped  so  to  manage  her  father,  as  to 
make  the  exchange  she  wished.  Perhaps,  too, 
she  was  a  little  bit  superstitious.  No  one  had 
ever  been  lucky  in  the  house  in  which  she  and 
Jan  had  lived.  She  sometimes  felt  angry  at 
her  father  for  thrusting  it  upon  them.  Even 
Elga  Skade's  love  affairs  had  all  gone  wrong 
there,  and  the  girl  was  sure  some  malicious 
sprite  had  power  within  its  walls  to  meddle 
and  make  trouble.  Elga  had  left  her,  influ- 


SHIPWRECK.  8* 

enced  entirely  by  this  superstition,  and  Mar- 
garet had  brooded  upon  it,  until  it  had  obtained 
some  influence  over  her ;  otherwise,  she  would 
not  have  permitted  her  father  to  dismantle  the 
unhappy  home  without  a  protest. 

As  it  was,  with  all  its  faults  she  was  begin- 
ning to  miss  the  independence  it  gave  her.  No 
married  woman  ever  goes  back  to  the  best  of 
homes,  and  takes  the  place  of  her  maidenhood. 
Her  new  servant,  Trolla  Bork,  had  warned  her 
pften  of  this.  "  When  Bork  was  drowned,"  she 
*aid,  "  I  went  back  to  my  parents,  but  I  did 
not  go  back  to  my  home.  No,  indeed  !  There 
is  a  difference,  even  where  there  is  no  unkind- 
ness.  Thy  own  home  is  a  full  cup.  Weep,  if 
thou  must  weep,  at  thy  own  fireside." 

After  Margaret's  refusal  to  see  Jan,  he  went 
back  to  his  boat,  and  employed  himself  all  day 
about  her  cargo,  and  in  settling  accounts  with 
Tulloch.  It  was  very  late  when  he  went  to  see 
Snorro.  But  Snorro  was  waiting  for  him.  Now 
that  things  had  come  to  a  crisis  he  was  ready  to 
hear  all  Jan's  complaints ;  he  believed  him  in 
all  things  to  have  done  right. 

"  Thou  hast  asked  her  once,  Jan,"  he  said ; 
"  that  was  well  and  right.  Thou  shalt  not  go 


82  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

again.  No,  indeed  !  Let  her  come  and  tell  thee 
she  is  sorry.  Then  thou  can  show  her  a  man's 
heart,  and  forgive  her  freely,  without  yea  or 
nay  in  the  matter.  What  right  had  she  to  pull 
thy  house  to  pieces  without  thy  knowledge? 
Come,  now,  and  I  will  show  thee  the  place  I 
have  made  for  thee  when  thou  art  in  Lerwick." 

There  was  a  big  loft  over  Peter's  store,  with 
a  narrow  ladder-like  stair  to  it.  It  was  full  of 
the  lumber  of  thirty  years  and  tenanted  by  a 
colony  of  Norway  rats,  who  were  on  the  most 
familiar  terms  with  Snorro.  Many  of  them 
answered  to  their  names,  none  were  afraid  to 
eat  from  his  hand  ;  one  old  shrewd  fellow,  gray 
with  age,  often  crept  into  Snorro's  bosom,  and 
in  the  warmth,  lay  hour  after  hour,  watching 
with  wise,  weird  eyes  the  quiet  face  it  trusted 
as  it  bent  over  a  book. 

There  was  a  corner  in  this  garret  with  a  win- 
dow looking  seaward,  and  here  Snorro  had 
cleared  a  small  space,  and  boarded  it  up  like  a 
room.  A  bed  of  down  and  feathers,  with  a 
cover  of  sealskins  occupied  one  side  ;  two  rude 
seats,  a  big  goods-box  turned  up  for  a  table, 
and  some  shelves  full  of  the  books  Jan  had 
brought  him,  completed  its  furniture. 


SHIP  WRECK.  83 

"  See  here,  Jan,  I  have  been  fifteen  years 
with  Peter  Fae,  and  no  feet  but  mine  have  ever 
entered  this  loft.  Here  thou  canst  be  at  peace. 
My  dear  Jan,  lie  thee  down,  and  sleep  now." 

Jan  was  glad  to  do  it.  He  put  the  gold 
locket  on  Snorro's  table,  and  said,  "  Thou  keep 
it.  I  bought  it  for  her,  and  she  sent  it  back 
to  me." 

"  Some  day  she  will  be  glad  of  it.  Be  thou 
sure  of  that." 

During  the  summer  Jan  made  short  and 
quick  voyages,  and  so  he  spent  many  an  hour 
in  this  little  retreat  talking  with  Snorro,  for 
he  had  much  to  annoy  and  trouble  him.  We 
do  not  get  over  living  sorrows  as  easily  as  dead 
ones.  Margaret  in  her  grave  would  have  lost 
the  power  to  wound  him,  and  he  would  grad- 
ually have  ceased  to  lament  her.  But  Margaret 
weeping  in  her  father's  house ;  Margaret  pray- 
ing in  the  kirk  for  strength  to  bear  his  neglect 
and  injustice  ;  Margaret  throwing  open  the  Blue- 
beard chamber  of  their  home,  and  discussing 
its  tragedy  with  his  enemies ;  this  was  a  sorrow 
there  was  no  forgetting.  On  his  return  from 
every  voyage  he  sent  her  the  money  he  had 
made,  and  some  little  token  of  his  love  with  it. 


84  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE, 

She  always  sent  both  back  without  a  word.  She 
understood  from  them  that  Jan  would  come  no 
more  in  person,  and  that  she  would  have  to  make 
the  next  advance,  either  by  voice  or  letter. 
Many  times  she  had  declared  she  would  never 
do  this,  and  the  declaration  even  in  her  tender- 
est  hours,  bound  her  to  her  self-inflicted  loneli- 
ness and  grief.  So  on  Snorro's  rude  table  the 
pretty  womanly  trinkets  accumulated,  and 
Snorro  looked  at  them  with  constantly  gath- 
ering anger. 

One  morning  in  October  he  heard  a  thing 
that  made  his  heart  leap.  The  physician  of  the 
town  hurried  into  the  store,  and  cried,  "  Peter 
Fae,  here  hath  come  a  little  man  to  thy  house. 
A  handsome  lad  he  is,  indeed.  Now  then,  go 
and  see  him." 

"  What  of  my  daughter,  Doctor  ?" 

"  She  will  do  well  enough.  " 

Snorro  lifted  never  an  eyelash,  but  his  face 
glowed  like  fire.  Jan,  then,  had  a  son  !  Jan's 
son  !  Already  he  loved  the  child.  Surely  he 
would  be  the  peacemaker.  Now  the  mother 
and  father  must  meet.  He  had  almost  for- 
given Margaret.  How  he  longed  for  Jan  to 
come  back.  Alas  !  when  he  did,  Margaret  was 


SHIPWRECK.  85 

said  to  be  dying ;  Peter  had  not  been  at  his 
store  for  three  days. 

The  double  news  met  Jan  as  soon  as  he  put 
his  foot  on  the  quay.  "  Thou  hast  a  son,  Jan." 
"Thy  wife  is  dying."  Jan  was  nearly  dis- 
traught. With  all  a  man's  strength  of  feeling, 
he  had  emotions  as  fervent  and  vivid  as  a 
woman :  he  forgot  in  a  moment  every  angry 
feeling,  and  hastened  to  his  wife.  Peter  opened 
the  door  ;  when  he  saw  Jan,  he  could  have 
struck  him.  He  did  what  was  more  cruel,  he 
shut  the  door  in  his  face,  and  drew  the  bolt 
passionately  across  it 

Jan,  however,  would  not  leave  the  vicinity 
He  stopped  the  doctor,  and  every  one  that 
came  and  went.  In  a  few  hours  this  became 
intolerable  to  Peter.  He  ordered  him  to  go 
away,  but  Jan  sat  on  a  large  stone  by  the  gate, 
with  his  head  in  his  hands,  and  answered  him 
never  a  word.  Then  he  sent  Thora  to  him.  In 
vain  Jan  tried  to  soften  her  heart.  "  Margaret 
is  unconscious,  yet  she  mourns  constantly  for 
thee.  Thou  art  my  child's  murderer,"  she 
said  sternly.  "  Go  thy  ways  before  I  curse  thee." 

He  turned  away  then  and  went  down  to  the 
seaside,  and  threw  himself,  in  an  agony  of 


86  JAN  VEDDER' S  WIFE. 

despair,  upon  the  sand  and  the  yellow  tangle. 
Hour  after  hour  passed  ;  physical  exhaustion 
and  mental  grief  produced  at  length  a  kind  of 
lethargy,  that  oblivion,  rather  than  sleep,  which 
comes  to  souls  which  have  felt  till  they  can  feel 
no  longer. 

Just  at  dark  some  one  touched  him,  and 
asked  sternly,  "Art  thou  drunk,  Jan  Vedder, 
to-day  ?  To-day,  when  thy  wife  is  dying  ?  " 

"  It  is  with  sorrow  I  am  drunk."  Then  he 
opened  his  eyes  and  saw  the  minister  standing 
over  him.  Slowly  he  rose  to  his  feet,  and  stood 
stunned  and  trembling  before  him. 

"  Jan  !  Go  to  thy  wife.  She  is  very  ill.  At 
the  last  she  may  want  thee  and  only  thee." 

"  They  will  not  let  me  see  her.  Do  thou 
speak  to  Peter  Fae  for  me.'* 

"  Hast  thou  not  seen  her — or  thy  son  ?  " 

"  I  have  not  been  within  the  door.  Oh,  do 
thou  speak  for  me  !  " 

"Come  with  me/' 

Together  they  went  back  to  Peter's  house. 
The  door  was  locked,  and  the  minister  knocked. 

"  Who  is  there  ?  " 

"  It  is  I,  and  Jan  Vedder.  Peter,  unbolt  the 
door." 


SHIP  WRECK.  87 

"Thou  art  God's  minister  and  ever  welcome  ; 
but  I  will  not  let  Jan  Vedder  cross  my  door- 
stone." 

"  Thou  wilt  let  us  both  in.  Indeed  thou  wilt. 
I  am  amazed  at  thee,  Peter.  What  God  has 
joined  together,  let  no  man  put  asunder.  Art 
thou  going  to  strive  against  God  ?  I  say  to  thee, 
unbolt  the  door,  unbolt  it  quick,  lest  thou  be 
too  late.  If  thou  suffer  not  mercy  to  pass 
through  it,  I  tell  thee  there  are  those  who  will 
pass  through  it,  the  door  being  shut." 

Then  Peter  drew  the  bolt  and  set  the  door 
wide,  but  his  face  was  hard  as  iron,  and  black 
as  midnight. 

"Jan,"  said  the  minister,  "  thy  wife  and  child 
are  in  the  next  room.  Go  and  see  them,  it  will 
be  good  for  thee.  Peter,  well  may  the  Lord 
Christ  say,  '  I  come  as  a  thief  in  the  night '  ; 
and  be  sure  of  this,  he  will  break  down  the  bars 
and  burst  open  the  doors  of  those  who  rise  not 
willingly  to  let  him  in." 

In  Shetland  at  that  day,  and  indeed  at  the 
present  day,  the  minister  has  almost  a  papal 
authority.  Peter  took  the  reproof  in  silence. 
Doctor  Balloch  was,  however,  a  man  who  in  any 
circumstances  would  have  had  influence  and 


88  JAN  VEDDER*S  WIFE. 

authority  among  those  brought  in  contact  with 
him,  for  though  he  spared  not  the  rod  in  the 
way  of  his  ministry,  he  was  in  all  minor  mat- 
ters full  of  gentleness  and  human  kindness. 
Old  and  young  had  long  ago  made  their  hearts 
over  to  him.  Besides,  his  great  learning  and 
his  acquaintance  with  the  tongues  of  antiquity 
were  regarded  as  a  great  credit  to  the  town. 

While  Jan  was  in  his  wife's  presence,  Doc- 
tor Balloch  stood  silent,  looking  into  the  fire : 
Peter  gazed  out  of  the  window.  Neither  spoke 
until  Jan  returned.  Then  the  minister  turned 
and  looked  at  the  young  man.  It  was  plain 
that  he  was  on  the  verge  of  insensibility  again. 
He  took  his  arm  and  led  him  to  a  couch.  "  Lie 
down,  Jan  ;"  then  turning  to  Peter  he  said, 
"  Thy  son  has  had  no  food  to-day.  He  is  faint 
and  suffering.  Let  thy  women  make  him  some 
tea,  and  bring  him  some  bread  and  meat." 

"  I  have  said  that  he  shall  not  eat  bread  in 
my  house.'* 

"  Then  thou  hast  said  an  evil  and  uncharita- 
ble thing.  Unsay  it,  Peter.  See,  the  lad  is 
fainting ! " 

"  I  can  not  mend  that.  He  shall  not  break 
bread  in  my  house." 


SHIPWRECK.  89 

"  Then  I  say  this  to  thee.  Thou  shalt  not 
break  bread  at  thy  Lord's  supper  in  His  house. 
No,  thou  shalt  not,  for  thou  would  be  doing  it 
unworthily,  and  eating  damnation  to  thyself. 
What  saith  thy  Lord  Christ?  If  thine  enemy 
hunger,  feed  him.  Now,  then,  order  the  bread 
and  tea  for  Jan  Vedder." 

Peter  called  a  woman  servant  and  gave  the 
order.  Then,  almost  in  a  passion,  he  faced  the 
minister,  and  said,  "  Oh,  sir,  if  thou  knew  the 
evil  this  man  hath  done  me  and  mine  !  " 

"  In  such  a  case  Christ's  instructions  are  very 
plain — '  Overcome  evil  with  good/  Now,  thou 
knowest  thy  duty.  If  thou  sin,  I  have  warned 
thee — the  sin  is  on  thy  own  head." 

Jan  heard  nothing  of  this  conversation.  The 
voices  of  the  two  men  were  only  like  spent 
waves  breaking  on  the  shores  of  his  conscious- 
ness. But  very  soon  a  woman  brought  him  a 
basin  of  hot  tea,  and  he  drank  it  and  ate  a  few 
mouthfuls.  It  gave  him  a  little  strength,  he 
gathered  himself  together,  opened  the  door. 
and  without  speaking  went  out  into  the  night. 
The  minister  followed,  watching  him  carefully, 
until  he  saw  Michael  Snorro  take  him  in  his  big 
arms,  and  carry  him  to  a  pile  of  sealskins. 
Then  he  knew  that  he  was  in  good  hands. 


90  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE 

Poor  Jan  !  He  was  utterly  spent  and  miser 
able.  The  few  minutes  he  had  passed  at 
Margaret's  side,  had  brought  him  no  comfort. 
He  heard  her  constantly  muttering  his  name, 
but  it  was  in  the  awful,  far-distant  voice  of  a 
soul  speaking  through  a  dream.  She  was 
unconscious  of  his  presence ;  he  trembled  in 
hers.  Just  for  a  moment  Thora  had  allowed 
him  to  lift  his  son,  and  to  press  the  tiny  face 
against  his  own.  Then  all  was  darkness,  and  a 
numb,  aching  sorrow,  until  he  found  himself  in 
Snorro's  arms. 

Many  days  Tvi^rgaret  Vedder  lay  between 
life  and  death,  but  at  length  there  was  hope, 
and  Jan  sailed  again.  He  went  away  very 
miserable,  though  he  had  fully  determined  it 
should  be  his  last  voyage  if  Margaret  wished  it 
so.  He  would  see  her  on  his  return,  he  would 
tell  her  how  sorry  he  was,  he  would  sell  The 
Solan  and  give  back  the  £600 ;  he  would  even 
humble  himself  to  Peter,  and  go  back  to  the 
store,  if  there  were  no  other  way  to  make 
peace  with  Margaret.  He  felt  that  no  personal 
sacrifice  would  be  too  great,  if  by  it  he  could 
win  back  his  home,  and  wife,  and  son.  The 
babe  had  softened  his  heart.  He  told  himself 


SHIPWRECK.  91 

— oh,  so  often — "Thou  art  a  father;*'  and  no 
man  could  have  had  a  sweeter,  stronger  sense 
of  the  obligations  the  new  relation  imposed. 
He  was  so  sure  of  himself  that  he  could  not 
help  feeling  equally  sure  of  Margaret,  and  also 
of  Peter.  "  For  the  child's  sake,  they  will  for- 
give me,  Snorro,  and  I'll  do  well,  yes,  I  will  do 
well  for  the  future/' 

Snorro  had  many  fears,  but  he  could  not 
bear  to  throw  cold  water  on  Jan's  hopes  and 
plans  for  reformation.  He  did  not  believe  that 
his  unconditional  surrender  would  be  a  good 
foundation  for  future  happiness.  He  did  not 
like  Jan's  taking  the  whole  blame.  He  did 
not  like  his  giving  up  The  Solan  at  Marga* 
ret's  word.  Neither  Peter  Fae,  nor  his  daughter, 
were  likely  to  exalt  any  one  who  humbled 
himself. 

"  It  is  money  in  the  hand  that  wins,"  said 
Snorro,  gloomily,  "  and  my  counsel  is,  that  thou 
bear  thyself  bravely,  and  show  her  how  well 
The  Solan  hath  done  already,  and  how  likely 
she  is  to  clear  herself  and  pay  back  that  weari- 
ful £600  before  two  years  have  gone  away.  If 
she  will  have  it,  let  her  have  it.  Jan,  how  could 
.she  give  thee  up  for ^600  !  Did  she  lovethee?" 


92  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

"I  do  believe  she  did — and  does  yet, 
Snorro." 

"  Only  God,  then,  understands  women.  But 
while  thou  art  away,  think  well  of  this  and  that, 
and  of  the  things  likely  to  follow,  for  still  I 
see  that  forethought  spares  afterthought  and 
after-sorrow/' 

With  words  like  these  ringing  in  his  ears, 
Jan  again  sailed  The  Solan  out  of  Lerwick. 
He  intended  to  make  a  coasting  voyage  only, 
but  he  expected  delay,  for  with  November  had 
come  storm  and  cold,  fierce  winds  and  roaring 
seas.  Edging  along  from  port  to  port,  taking 
advantage  of  every  tide  and  favorable  breeze, 
and  lying  to,  when  sailing  was  impossible, 
six  weeks  were  gone  before  he  reached  Kirk- 
wall  in  the  Orkneys.  Here  he  intended  to 
take  in  his  last  cargo  before  steering  for  home. 
A  boat  leaving  Kirkwall  as  he  entered,  carried 
the  news  of  The  Solan's  arrival  to  Lerwick, 
and  then  Snorro  watched  anxiously  every  tide 
for  Jan's  arrival. 

But  day  after  day  passed  and  The  Solan 
came  not.  No  one  but  Snorro  was  uneasy.  In 
the  winter,  in  that  tempestuous  latitude,  boats 
were  often  delayed  for  weeks.  They  ran  from 


SHIPWRECK.  93 

shelter  to  shelter  in  constant  peril  of  ship- 
wreck, and  with  a  full  cargo  a  good  skipper 
was  bound  to  be  prudent.  But  Snorro  had  a 
presentiment  of  danger  and  trouble.  He 
watched  night  after  night  for  Jan,  until  even 
his  strength  gave  way,  and  he  fell  into  a  deep 
sleep.  He  was  awakened  by  Jan's  voice.  In 
a  moment  he  opened  the  door  and  let  him 
in. 

Alas  !  Alas,  poor  Jan  !  It  was  sorrow  upon 
sorrow  for  him.  The  Solan  had  been  driven 
upon  the  Quarr  rocks,  and  she  was  a  total 
wreck.  Nothing  had  been  saved  but  Jan's 
life,  even  that  barely.  He  had  been  so  bruised 
and  injured  that  he  had  been  compelled  to  rest 
in  the  solitary  hut  of  a  coast-guardsman  many 
days.  He  gave  the  facts  to  Snorro  in  an 
apathy.  The  man  was  shipwrecked  as  well  as 
the  boat.  It  was  not  only  that  he  had  lost 
every  thing,  that  he  had  not  a  penny  left  in  the 
world,  he  had  lost  hope,  lost  all  faith  in  himself, 
lost  even  the  will  to  fight  his  ill  fortune  any 
longer. 


CHAPTER  VI. 
MARGARET'S  HEART. 

"  Do  not  drop  in  for  an  after  loss. 
Ah,  do  not,  when  my  heart  hath  scap'd  this  sorrow, 
Come  in  the  rereward  of  a  conquered  woe." 

— SHAKESPEARE'S  SONNETS,  xc< 

"  Man  is  his  own  star,  and  the  soul  that  can 
Render  an  honest  and  a  perfect  man 
Commands  all  light,  all  influence,  all  fate. 
Nothing  to  him  falls  early,  or  too  late." 

— FLETCHER'S  "  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE." 

JAN,  the  sole  survivor  of  The  Solan,  had 
brought  the  news  of  his  own  misfortune, 
but  there  was  no  necessity  to  hasten  its  publi- 
cation. Nothing  could  be  gained  by  telling  it 
at  once,  and  no  one  could  be  helped,  so  Snorro 
advised  him  to  sleep  all  the  following  day. 
Jan  hardly  needed  the  advice.  In  a  few 
minutes  he  sank  into  a  dreamless  lethargic 
sleep,  which  lasted  nearly  twenty-four  hours. 
When  he  awoke  from  it,  he  said,  "  I  will  see 
Tulloch,  and  then  I  will  sleep  again,  Snorro." 


MARGARET'S  HEART.  9$ 

"Let  me  go  for  thee." 

"  Nay,  then  he  will  think  that  I  am  a  coward. 
I  must  tell  my  own  tale ;  he  can  but  be 
angry." 

But  Tulloch  took  his  loss  with  composure. 
"  Thou  did  the  best  that  could  be  done,  Jan," 
he  answered,  when  Jan  had  told  the  story  of 
the  shipwreck  ;  "  wind  and  wave  are  not  at  thy 
order. " 

"  Thou  wilt  say  that  for  me  ?  It  is  all  I  ask. 
I  did  my  best,  Tulloch." 

"  I  will  say  it ;  and  in  the  spring  I  will  see 
about  another  boat.  I  am  not  afraid  to  trust 
thee." 

Jan  looked  at  him  gratefully,  but  the  hope 
was  too  far  off  to  give  much  present  comfort  to 
him.  He  walked  slowly  back  to  the  retreat 
Snorro  had  made  for  him,  wondering  how  he 
was  to  get  the  winter  over,  wondering  if  Mar- 
garet would  see  him,  wondering  how  best  to 
gain  her  forgiveness,  longing  to  see  her  face  but 
not  daring  to  approach  her  without  some  prep- 
aration for  the  meeting.  For  though  she  had 
come  back  to  life,  it  had  been  very  slowly. 
Snorro  said  that  she  never  left  the  house,  that 
she  was  still  wan  and  weak,  and  that  on  the 


90  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

rare  occasions  when  he  had  been  sent  to  Peter's 
house,  she  had  not  spoken  to  him. 

After  his  interview  with  Tulloch,  he  fell  into 
a  sound  sleep  again.  When  he  awoke  the  day 
was  well  begun,  and  Peter  was  at  the  store. 
Looking  through  the  cracks  in  the  rude  floor- 
ing, he  could  see  him  carefully  counting  his 
cash,  and  comparing  his  balance.  Snorro,  for 
a  wonder,  was  quite  idle,  and  Peter  finally 
looked  at  him,  and  said  fretfully : 

"There  is  this  and  that  to  do.  What  art 
thou  standing  still  for?  " 

"  A  man  may  stand  still  sometimes.  I  feel 
not  like  work  to-day/' 

"  Art  thou  sick,  then  ?  " 

"  Who  can  tell  ?     It  may  be  sickness/' 

He  stood  thoughtfully  by  the  big  fire  and 
cnoved  not.  Peter  went  on  with  his  figures  in 
a  fidgety  way.  Presently  Tulloch  entered. 
The  banker's  visits  were  rare  ones,  and  Peter 
was  already  suspicious  of  them.  But  he  laid 
down  his  pen,  and  with  scrupulous  civility  said, 
"  Good  morning  to  thee,  Tulloch — Deacon  Tul- 
loch, I  should  say.  Wilt  thou  buy  or  sell 
aught  this  morning  ?  " 

"  Good  morning,  Fae.  1  came  to  thee  for 
news.  Where  is  thy  son  Jan  staying?  " 


MARGARET'S  HEART.  97 

Peter's  face  darkened.  "  I  know  nothing  at 
all  about  Jan  Vedder.  If  he  is  at  sea,  he  is  out 
of  thy  world ;  if  he  is  in  harbor,  he  will  be  at 
Ragon  Torr's,  or  onboard  The  Solan." 

"  The  Solan  hath  gone  to  pieces  on  the  Quarr 
Rocks." 

Just  for  a  moment  a  thrill  of  sinful  triumph 
made  Peter's  brown  face  turn  scarlet,  but  he 
checked  it  instantly.  "I  heard  not  that,"  he 
said  gravely. 

"  Only  Jan  escaped — ship  and  crew  went  to 
the  bottom." 

Peter  shut  his  mouth  tight,  he  was  afraid  tc 
trust  himself  to  speak. 

"  But  Jan  did  his  very  best,  no  man  could 
have  done  more.  I  saw  him  last  night.  He 
is  ill  and  broken  down  by  his  trouble.  Put  out 
thy  hand  to  him.  Thou  do  that,  and  it  will  be 
a  good  thing,  Fae." 

"  Thou  mind  thy  own  affairs,  Deacon  Tulloch." 

"  Well  then  it  is  my  affair  to  tell  thee,  that 
there  is  a  time  for  anger  and  a  time  for  for- 
giveness. If  Jan  is  to  be  saved,  his  wife  can 
now  do  it.  At  this  hour  he  is  sick  and  sore- 
hearted,  and  she  can  win  him  back,  she  can  save 
him  now,  Fae." 


98  JAN  VEDDER' S  WIFE. 

"Shall  I  lose  my  child  to  save  Jan  Vedder? 
What  is  it  to  thee?  What  can  thou  know 
of  a  father's  duty?  Thou,  who  never  had 
child.  Deacon  thou  may  be,  but  thou  art 
no  Dominie,  and  I  will  order  my  household 
without  thy  word,  thus  or  so.  Yes,  indeed  I 
will!" 

"  Just  that,  Fae.  I  have  spoken  for  a  good 
man.  And  let  me  tell  thee,  if  Margaret  Ved- 
der is  thy  daughter,  she  is  also  Jan's  wife ; 
and  if  I  were  Jan,  I  would  make  her  do  a 
wife's  duty.  If  all  the  women  in  Shetland 
were  to  run  back  to  their  fathers  for  a  little 
thing  that  offended  them,  there  would  be  an 
end  of  marrying." 

Peter  laughed  scornfully.  "  Every  one 
knows  what  well-behaved  wives  old  bachelors 
have." 

"  Better  to  be  a  bachelor,  than  have  a  wife 
like  poor  Jan  Vedder  has." 

"  Thou  art  talking  of  my  daughter.  Wilt  thou 
mind  thy  own  affairs?" 

"I  meant  well,  Fae.  I  meant  well.  Both 
thee  and  I  have  much  need  of  heaven's  mercy. 
It  will  be  a  good  thing  for  us  to  be  merciful, 
I  am  willing  to  help  and  trust  Jan  again.  Thou 


MARGARET'S  HEART.  99 

do  so  too.  Now  I  will  say  '  good  morning ', 
for  I  see  thou  art  angry  at  me." 

Peter  was  angry,  intensely  angry.  Under 
the  guise  of  Christian  charity,  Tulloch  had  come 
into  his  store  and  insulted  him.  Peter  would 
believe  in  no  other  motive.  And  yet  he  was 
scarcely  just  to  Tulloch,  for  his  intentions  had 
first  and  mainly  been  sincerely  kind  ones ; 
but  the  tares  are  ever  among  the  wheat,  and  it 
was  true  enough  that  before  the  interview  was 
over  Tulloch  had  felt  a  personal  pleasure  in  his 
plain  speaking. 

Very  soon  there  was  a  little  crowd  in  Fae's 
store.  It  was  a  cold,  blustering  day,  and  its 
warmth  and  company  made  it  a  favorite  loung- 
ing place.  Jan's  misfortune  was  the  sole  topic 
of  conversation,  and  Jan's  absence  was  un- 
favorably criticised.  Why  did  he  not  come 
among  his  fellows  and  tell  them  how  it  had  hap- 
pened ?  Here  were  good  men  and  a  good  ship 
gone  to  the  bottom,  and  he  had  not  a  word  to 
say  of  the  matter.  They  were  all  curious  about 
the  wreck,  and  would  have  liked  to  pass  the 
long  stormy  day  in  talking  it  over.  As  it  was, 
they  had  only  conjectures.  No  one  but  Tulloch 
had  »een  Jan.  They  wondered  where  he  was. 


roo  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

"  At  Torr's,   doubtless,"  said  Peter,  harshly. 
"  It  is  likely.     Jan  ever  flew   to  the  brandy 
keg  for  comfort." 

"  It  is  like  he  had  been  there  before  he  steered 
for  the  Quarr  Rocks." 

"  It  did  not  need  brandy.  He  was  ever 
careless." 

"  He  was  foolhardy  more  than  careless." 
"  I  never  thought  that  he  knew  the  currents 
and  the  coast,  as  a  man  should  know  it  who 
has  life  and  goods  to  carry  safe." 

"  He  had  best  be  with  his  crew  ;  every  man 
of  it  was  a  better  man  than  he  is." 

Snorro  let  them  talk  and  wonder.  He 
would  not  tell  them  where  Jan  was.  One 
group  succeeded  another,  and  hour  after  hour 
Snorro  stood  listening  to  their  conversation, 
with  shut  lips  and  blazing  eyes.  Peter  looked 
at  him  with  increasing  irritability. 

"  Art  thou  still   sick,  Snorro  ?  "  he  asked  at 
length. 
"  Not  I." 

"Why,  then,  art  thou  idle?" 
"I    am   thinking.     But  the   thought  is  too 
much  for  me.     I  can  make  nothing  of  it." 
Few   noticed  Snorro's  remark,  but  old    Jal 


MARGARET'S  HEART.  IOI 

Sinclair  said,  "  Tell  thy  thought,  Snorro.  There 
are  wise  men  here  to  read  it  for  thee  ;  very 
wise  men,  as  thou  must  have  noticed." 

Snorro  caught  something  in  the  old  man's 
face,  or  in  the  inflection  of  his  voice,  which 
gave  him  an  assurance  of  sympathy,  so  he 
said  :  "  Well,  then,  it  is  this.  Jan  Vedder  is 
evidently  a  very  bad  man,  and  a  very  bad 
sailor ;  yet  when  Donald  Twatt's  boat  sunk  in 
the  Vorr  Ness,  Jan  took  his  bonnet  in  his  hand, 
arid  he  put  his  last  sovereign  in  it,  and  he  went 
up  and  down  Lerwick  till  he  had  got  £40  for 
Twatt.  And  he  gave  him  a  suit  of  his  own 
clothes,  and  he  would  hear  no  word  wrong  of 
him,  and  he  said,  moreover,  that  nothing  had 
happened  Twatt  but  what  might  happen  the 
best  man  and  the  best  sailor  that  ever  lived 
when  it  would  be  God's  own  time.  I  thought 
that  was  a  good  thing  in  Jan,  but  no  one  has 
spoke  of  it  to-day." 

"  People  have  ever  thought  thee  a  fooL 
Snorro.  When  thou  art  eighty  years  old,  as  Jal 
Sinclair  is,  perhaps  thou  wilt  know  more.  Jan 
Vedder  should  have  left  Twatt  to  his  trouble ; 
he  should  have  said, '  Twatt  is  a  drunken  fellow, 
or  a  careless,  foolhardy  fellow ;  he  is  a  bad 


102  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

sailor,  a  bad  man,  and  he  ought  to  have  gone 
to  the  bottom/  '  Then  there  was  a  minute's 
uncomfortable  silence,  and  the  men  gradually 
scattered. 

Peter  was  glad  of  it.  He  had  no  particular 
pleasure  in  any  conversation  having  Jan  for  a 
topic,  and  he  was  burning  and  smarting  at 
Tulloch's  interference.  It  annoyed  him  also 
to  see  Snorro  so  boldly  taking  Jan's  part.  His 
indignant  face  and  brooding  laziness  was  a  new 
element  in  the  store,  and  it  worried  Peter  far 
beyond  its  importance.  He  left  unusually 
early,  and  then  Snorro  clostd  the  doors,  and 
built  up  the  fire,  and  made  some  tea,  and 
broiled  mutton  and  bloaters,  and  set  his  few 
dishes  on  the  box  which  served  him  fora  table. 
Jan  had  slept  heavily  all  day,  but  when  Snorro 
brought  the  candle  near,  he  opened  his  eyes 
and  said,  "  1  am  hungry,  Snorro/' 

"  I  have  come  to  tell  thee  there  is  tea  and 
meat  waiting.  All  is  closed,  and  we  can  eat 
and  talk,  and  no  one  will  trouble  us." 

A  Shetlander  loves  his  tea,  and  it  pleased 
Snorro  to  see  how  eagerly  Jan  drank  cup  after 
cup.  And  soon  his  face  began  to  lose  its  weary, 
indifferent  look,  and  he  ate  with  keen  relish  the 


MARGARET'S  HEART.  103 

simple  food  before  him.  In  an  hour  Jan  was 
nearly  like  himself  once  more.  Then  he 
remembered  Margaret.  In  the  extremity  of 
his  physical  weakness  and  weariness,  he  had 
forgotten  every  thing  in  sleep,  but  now  the 
delay  troubled  him.  "  I  ought  to  have  seen 
my  wife  to-day,  Snorro ;  why  did  thou  let  me 
sleep  ?" 

"  Sleep  was  the  first  thing,  and  now  we  will 
see  to  thy  clothes.  They  must  be  mended, 
Jan." 

Jan  looked  down  at  the  suit  he  wore.  It  was 
torn  and  shabby  and  weather-stained,  and  it 
was  all  he  had.  But  Snorro  was  as  clever  as 
any  woman  with  the  needle  and  thread.  The 
poor  fellow,  indeed,  had  never  had  any  woman 
friend  to  use  a  needle  for  him,  and  he  soon 
darned,  and  patched,  and  washed  clean  what 
the  winds  and  waves  had  left  of  Jan's  once 
handsome  suit  of  blue. 

As  he  worked  they  talked  of  the  best  means 
of  securing  an  interview  with  Margaret,  for  Jan 
readily  guessed  that  Peter  would  forbid  it,  and 
it  was  finally  decided  that  Snorro  should  take 
her  a  letter,  as  soon  as  Peter  was  at  the  store 
next  day.  There  was  a  little  cave  by  the  sea- 


104  JAN  VEDDER  'S  WIFE. 

side  half  way  between  the  town  and  Peter's 
house,  and  there  Jan  was  to  wait  for  Snorro's 
report. 

In  the  meantime  Peter  had  reached  his 
home.  In  these  days  it  was  a  very  quiet, 
somber  place.  Thora  was  in  ill  health,  in  much 
worse  health  than  any  one  but  herself  sus- 
pected, and  Margaret  was  very  unhappy.  This 
evening  Thora  had  gone  early  to  bed,  anc? 
Margaret  sat  with  her  baby  in  her  arms.  When 
her  father  entered  she  laid  him  in  the  cradle. 
Peter  did  not  like  to  have  it  in  any  way  forced 
upon  his  notice,  and  Margaret  understood  ^  ell 
enough  that  the  child  was  only  tolerated  for 
her  sake.  So,  without  any  of  those  little  fond 
obtrusive  ways  so  natural  to  a  young  mother, 
she  put  the  child  out  of  the  way,  and  sat  down 
to  serve  her  father's  tea. 

His  face  was  dark  and  angry,  his  heart  felt 
hard  to  her  at  that  hour.  She  had  brought  so 
much  sorrow  and  shame  on  him.  She  had  been 
the  occasion  of  so  many  words  and  acts  of 
which  he  was  ashamed.  In  fact,  his  conscience 
was  troubling  him,  and  he  was  trying  to  lay 
the  whole  blame  of  his  cruelty  and  injustice  on 
her.  For  some  time  he  did  not  speak,  and  she 


MARGARET'S  HEART.  105 

was  too  much  occupied  with  her  own  thoughts 
to  ask  him  any  questions.  At  length  he 
snapped  out,  "  Jan  Vedder  came  back  to  Ler- 
wick  yesterday/' 

"  Yesterday  ?  " 

"  I  said  yesterday.  Did  thou  think  he  would 
run  here  to  see  thee  the  first  moment  ?  Not 
he.  He  was  at  Tulloch's  last  night.  He  will 
have  been  at  Torr's  all  day,  no  doubt/' 

Margaret's  eyes  filled  with  tears,  and  Peter 
looked  angrily  at  her. 

"  Art  thou  crying  again  ?  Now  listen,  thou 
art  not  like  to  see  him  at  all.  He  has  thrown 
thy  £600  to  the  bottom  of  the  sea — ship,  cargo, 
c*nd  crew,  all  gone." 

"  Jan  ?     Father,  is  Jan  safe  ?  " 

"  He  is  safe  enough.  The  devil  holds  his 
own  from  water.  Now,  if  he  does  come  to  see 
thee,  thou  shalt  not  speak  with  him.  That  is 
my  command  to  thee." 

Margaret  answered  not,  but  there  was  a  look 
upon  her  face,  which  he  understood  to  mean 
rebellion. 

"Bring  me  the  Bible  here."  Then  as  he 
turned  to  the  place  he  wanted,  he  said  :  "  Now; 
Margaret,  if  thou  art  thinking  to  disobey  thy 


106  JAN  VEDDER*  S  WIFE. 

father,  I  want  thee  to  hear  in  what  kind  of 
company  thou  wilt  do  so ;  "  and  he  slowly 
read  aloud : 

"  '  Backbiters — haters  of  God — despiteful — 
proud — boasters — inventors  of  evil  things — dis- 
obedient to  parents  ;'  dost  thou  hear,  Margaret? 
^disobedient  to  parents — without  understanding — 
covenant  breakers — without  natural  affection — 
implacable — unmerciful/  " 

"  Let  me  see  him  once,  father  ?  Let  me  see 
him  for  half  an  hour." 

"  Not  for  one  moment.  Disobey  me  if  thou 
dares." 

"  He  is  my  husband." 

"I  am  thy  father.  Thy  obligation  to  me 
began  with  thy  birth,  twenty  years  before  thou 
saw  Jan  Vedder.  Between  man  and  wife  there 
may  be  a  divorce,  between  father  and  daughter 
there  can  be  no  bill  of  separation.  The  tie  of 
thy  obedience  is  for  life,  unless  thou  wilt  take 
the  risk  of  disobeying  thy  God.  Very  well, 
then,  I  say  to  thee,  thou  shalt  not  speak  to  Jan 
Vedder  again,  until  he  has  proved  himself 
worthy  to  have  the  care  of  a  good  woman. 
That  is  all  I  say,  but  mind  it !  If  thou  disobey 
me,  I  will  never  speak  to  thee  again.  I  will 


MARGARET'S  HEART.  107 

send  thee  and  thy  child  from  my  sight,  I  will 
leave  every  penny  I  have  to  my  two  nephews, 
Magnus  and  Thorkel.  That  is  enough.  Where 
is  thy  mother?  " 

"  She  is  in  pain,  and  has  gone  to  bed." 
"  It  is  a  sick  house,  I  think.  First,  thou  wert 
like  to  die,  and  ever  since  thy  mother  hath  been 
ill ;  that  also  is  Jan  Vedder's  doing,  since  thou 
must  needs  fret  thyself  into  a  fever  for  him." 
Then  he  took  his  candle  and  went  to  his  sick 
wife,  for  he  thought  it  best  not  to  weaken  his 
commands  by  any  discussion  concerning 
them. 

Margaret  did  what  most  mothers  would  have 
done,  she  lifted  her  child  for  consolation.  It 
was  a  beautiful  child,  and  she  loved  it  with  an 
idolatrous  affection.  It  had  already  taught  her 
some  lessons  strange  enough  to  Margaret  Ved- 
der.  For  its  sake  she  had  become  conciliating, 
humble,  patient ;  had  repressed  her  feelings  of 
mother-pride,  and  for  the  future  good  of  her 
boy,  kept  him  in  a  corner  as  it  were.  She  had 
never  suffered  him  to  be  troublesome,  never 
intruded  him  upon  the  notice  of  the  grand- 
father whom  some  day  doubtless  he  would  com- 
pletely conquer.  Ah,  if  she  had  only  been 


I08  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

half  as  unselfish  with  Jan !  Only  half  as  pru- 
dent for  Jan's  welfare ! 

She  lifted  the  boy  and  held  him  to  her 
breast.  As  she  watched  him,  her  face  grew 
lovely.  "  My  child !  "  she  whispered,  "  for 
thee  I  can  thole  every  thing.  For  thy  sake,  I 
will  be  patient.  Nothing  shall  tempt  me  to 
spoil  thy  life.  Thou  shalt  be  rich,  little  one, 
and  some  day  thee  and  I  will  be  happy  to- 
gether.  Thy  father  robbed  thee,  but  I  will  not* 
injure  thee  ;  no,  indeed,  I  will  not !  " 

So,  after  all,  Jan's  child  was  to  be  the  barrier 
between  him  and  his  wife.  If  Jan  had  chosen 
to  go  back  to  the  class  from  which  she  had 
taken  him,  she  would  at  least  save  her  child 
from  the  suffering  and  contempt  of  poverty. 
What  she  would  have  done  for  his  father,  she 
would  do  for  him.  Yes,  that  night  she  fully 
determined  to  stand  by  her  son.  It  might  be 
a  pleasure  for  her  to  see  Jan,  and  even  to  be 
reconciled  to  him,  but  she  would  not  sacrifice 
her  child's  inheritance  for  her  own  gratification. 
She  really  thought  she  was  consummating  a 
grand  act  of  self-denial,  and  wept  a  few  pitiful 
tears  over  her  own  hard  lot. 

In  the  morning  Peter  was  unusually  kind  to 


MARGARET'S  HEART.  109 

her.  He  noticed  the  baby,  and  even  allowed  her 
to  lay  it  in  his  arms  while  she  brought  him  his 
seal-skin  cloak  and  woolen  mufflers.  It  was  a 
dangerous  advance  for  Peter  ;  he  felt  his  heart 
strangely  moved  by  the  sleeping  child,  and  he 
could  not  avoid  kissing  him  as  he  gave  him 
back  to  his  mother.  Margaret  smiled  at  her 
father  in  her  deep  joy,  and  said  softly  to  him, 
"  Now  thou  hast  kissed  me  twice."  Nothing 
that  Peter  could  have  done  would  have  so 
bound  her  to  him.  He  had  sealed  his  com- 
mand with  that  kiss,  and  though  no  word  of 
promise  was  given  him,  he  went  to  his  store 
comparatively  light-hearted  ;  he  was  certain  his 
daughter  would  not  disobey  him. 

While  this  scene  was  transpiring,  one  far 
more  pathetic  was  taking  place  in  Snorro's 
room.  Jan's  clothes  had  been  washed  and 
mended,  and  he  was  dressing  himself  with  an 
anxious  desire  to  look  well  in  his  wife's  eyes 
that  was  almost  pitiful.  Snorro  sat  watching 
him.  Two  women  could  hardly  have  been 
more  interested  in  a  toilet,  or  tried  harder  to 
make  the  most  out  of  poor  and  small  materials. 
Then  Jan  left  his  letter  to  Margaret  with 
Snorro,  and  went  to  the  cave  agreed  upon,  to 
await  the  answer- 


no  fAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

Very  soon  after  Peter  reached  the  store, 
Snorro  left  it.  Peter  saw  him  go,  and  he  sus- 
pected his  errand,  but  he  knew  the  question  had 
to  be  met  and  settled,  and  he  felt  almost  sure 
of  Margaret  that  morning.  At  any  rate,  she 
would  have  to  decide,  and  the  sooner  the 
better.  Margaret  saw  Snorro  coming,  but  she 
never  associated  the  visit  with  Jan.  She 
thought  her  father  had  forgotten  something 
and  sent  Snorro  for  it.  So  when  he  knocked, 
she  said  instantly,  "  Come  in,  Michael  Snorro/' 

The  first  thing  Snorro  saw  was  the  child. 
He  went  straight  to  the  cradle  and  looked  at 
it.  Then  he  kneeled  down,  gently  lifted  the 
small  hand  outside  the  coverlet,  and  kissed  it. 
When  he  rose  up,  his  face  was  so  full  of  love 
and  delight  that  Margaret  almost  forgave  him 
every  thing.  "  How  beautiful  he  is,"  he  whis- 
pered, looking  back  at  the  sleeping  babe. 

Margaret  smiled ;  she  was  well  pleased  at 
Snorro's  genuine  admiration. 

"  And  he  is  so  like  Jan — only  Jan  is  still 
more  beautiful." 

Margaret  did  not  answer  him.  She  was 
washing  the  china  cups,  and  she  stood  at  the 
table  with  a  towel  over  her  arm.  Snorro 


MARGARET'S  HEART.  in 

thought  her  more  beautiful  than  she  had  been 
on  her  wedding  day.  During  her  illness,  most 
of  her  hair  had  been  cut  off,  and  now  a  small 
white  cap  covered  her  head,  the  short,  pale- 
brown  curls  just  falling  beneath  it  on  her  brow 
and  on  her  neck.  A  long,  dark  dress,  a  white 
apron,  and  a  white  lawn  kerchief  pinned  over 
her  bosom,  completed  her  attire.  But  no  lady 
in  silk  or  lace  ever  looked  half  so  womanly. 
Snorro  stood  gazing  at  her,  until  she  said, 
"Well,  then,  what  hast  thou  come  for?  " 

With  an  imploring  gesture  he  offered  her 
Jan's  letter. 

She  took  it  in  her  hand  and  turned  it  over, 
and  over,  and  over.  Then,  with  a  troubled  face, 
she  handed  it  back  to  Snorro. 

"  No,  no,  no,  read  it !  Oh,  do  thou  read  it ! 
Jan  begs  thee  to  read  it !  No,  no,  I  will  not 
take  it  back  !  " 

"  I  dare  not  read  it,  Snorro.  It  is  too 
late — too  late.  Tell  Jan  he  must  not  come 
here.  It  will  make  more  sorrow  for  me.  If 
he  loves  me  at  all,  he  will  not  come.  He  is 
not  kind  to  force  me  to  say  these  words.  Tell 
him  I  will  not,  dare  not,  see  him ! " 

"  It  is  thou  that  art   unkind.     He  has  been 


713  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

shipwrecked,  Margaret  Vedder;  bruised  and 
cut,  and  nearly  tossed  to  death  by  the  waves. 
He  is  broken-hearted  about  thee.  He  loves 
thee,  oh,  as  no  woman  ever  deserved  to  be 
loved.  He  is  thy  husband.  Thou  wilt  see 
him,  oh  yes,  thou  wilt  see  him !  " 

"  I  will  not  see  him,  Snorro.  My  father  hath 
forbid  me.  If  I  see  Jan,  he  will  turn  me  and 
the  child  from  the  house." 

"  Let  him.  Go  to  thy  husband  and  thy  own 
home." 

"  My  husband  hath  no  home  for  me." 

"  For  thou  pulled  it  to  pieces." 

"  Go  away,  Snorro,  lest  worse  words  come. 
I  will  not  sacrifice  that  little  innocent  babe  for 
Jan." 

"  It  is  Jan's  son — thou  art  ruining  Jan — " 

"  Now,  wilt  thou  go,  Michael  Snorro,  and 
tell  Jan  that  I  say  what  my  father  says :  when 
he  is  worthy  of  me  I  will  come  to  him." 

"  I  will  go,  but  I  will  tell  thee  first,  that  Jan 
will  be  worthy  of  thee  long  before  thou  art 
worthy  of  him."  Then,  ere  Margaret  could 
prevent  him,  he  walked  to  the  cradle,  lifted  the 
child,  and  kissed  it  again  and  again,  saying 
between  each  kiss,  "  That  is  for  thy  father, 
little  one." 


MARGARET'S  HEART.  113 

The  child  was  crying  when  he  laid  it  down, 
and  Margaret  again  angrily  ordered  him  to 
leave  the  house.  Before  she  had  soothed  it  to 
peace,  Snorro  was  nearly  out  of  sight.  Then 
Thora,  who  had  heard  the  dispute,  rose  from 
her  bed  and  came  u.to  the  room.  She  looked 
ill  and  sad,  and  asked  faintly,  "  What  is  this 
message  sent  to  Jan  Vedder?  He  will  not 
believe  it.  Look  for  him  here  very  soon,  and 
be  sure  what  thou  doest  is  right." 

"  My  father  told  me  what  to  do." 

"  Yet  ask  thy  heart  and  thy  conscience  also. 
It  is  so  easy  for  a  woman  to  go  wrong,  Mar- 
garet ;  it  is  almost  impossible  for  her  to  put 
wrong  right.  Many  a  tear  shall  she  wash  it 
out  with/' 

"  I  have  done  no  wrong  to  Jan.  Dost  thou 
think  so  ?  " 

"  When  one  gets  near  the  grave,  Margaret, 
there  is  a  little  light  from  beyond,  and  many 
things  are  seen  not  seen  before.  Oh,  be  sure 
thou  art  right  about  Jan  !  No  one  can  judge 
for  thee.  Fear  not  to  do  what  thy  heart  says, 
for  at  the  end  right  will  come  right,  and  wrong 
will  come  wrong." 

There  was  a  solemn  stillness  after  this  con- 


H4  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

versation.  Thora  sat  bent  over  beside  the  fire 
musing.  Margaret,  wearied  with  the  feelings 
which  her  interview  with  Snorro  had  called 
forth,  rested  upon  the  sofa ;  she  was  suffering, 
and  the  silence  and  melancholy  of  her  mother 
seemed  almost  a  wrong  to  her.  It  was  almost 
as  if  she  had  taken  Jan's  part. 

A  knock  at  the  door  startled  both  women. 
Thora  rose  and  opened  it.  It  was  Jan. 
"  Mother,"  he  said,  "  I  want  to  see  my  wife 
and  child." 

"  Margaret,  speak  for  thyself." 

"  I  dare  not  see  Jan.     Tell  him  so." 

Thora  repeated  the  message. 

"  Ask  Margaret  if  that  is  her  last  word  to 
me?" 

Mechanically  Thora  asked  the  question,  and 
after  an  agonizing  pause  Margaret  gasped  out, 
4<  Yes,  yes— until— " 

"  Ask  her  to  stand  a  moment  at  the  window 
with  the  child.  I  long  to  see  them."  Then  he 
turned  to  go  to  the  window,  and  Thora  shut 
the  door.  But  it  was  little  use  repeating  Jan's 
request,  Margaret  had  fainted,  and  lay  like  one 
dead,  and  Thora  forgot  every  thing  till  life 
returned  to  her  daughter.  Then  as  the  apparent 


MARGARET'S  HEART.  115 

unkindness  was  irrevocable  and  unexplainable, 
she  said  nothing  of  it.  Why  should  she  add 
to  the  sorrow  Margaret  was  suffering? 

And  as  for  Jan,  the  universal  opinion  was 
that  he  ought  to  suffer.  He  had  forfeited  his 
wife,  and  his  home,  and  his  good  name,  and  he 
had  lost  his  boat.  When  a  man  has  calamity 
upon  calamity  the  world  generally  concludes 
that  he  must  be  a  very  wicked  man  to  deserve 
them.  Perhaps  the  world  is  right ;  but  it  is 
also  just  possible  that  the  world,  even  with  its 
six  thousand  years  of  gathered  wisdom,  may 
be  wrong. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE   MAN  AT  DEATH'S  DOOR. 

"  Thoughts  hardly  to  be  packed 

Into  a  narrow  act, 
Fancies  that  broke  through  language  and  escaped, 

All  I  could  never  be, 

All  men  ignored  in  me, 
This  I  was  worth  to  God,  whose  wheel  the  pitcher  shaped  .* 

IT  must  be  remembered,  however,  that  Mar- 
garet was  bound  by  ties  whose  strength 
this  generation  can  hardly  conceive.  The 
authority  of  a  father  over  a  child  in  England 
and  Scotland  is  still  a  very  decided  one. 
Fifty  years  ago  in  Shetland  it  was  almost  abso- 
lute. Margaret  believed  the  fifth  command- 
ment to  be  as  binding  upon  her  as  the  first 
From  her  childhood  it  had  been  pointed  out 
to  her  as  leading  all  the  six  defining  our  duty 
to  our  fellow-creatures.  Therefore  if  she 
thought  her  father's  orders  regarding  Jan 
unkind,  the  possibility  of  disobeying  them 
never  presented  itself. 


THE  MAN  A  T  D£A  TH'S  DOOR,  1 1  ? 

Jan's  troubles  were  pointed  out  to  her  as  the 
obvious  results  of  Jan's  sins.  How  could  he 
expect  a  blessing  on  a  boat  bought  as  he  had 
bought  The  Solan?  And  what  was  the  use  of 
helping  a  man  who  was  always  so  unfortunate  ? 
If  Peter  did  not  regard  misfortune  as  a  sin,  he 
drew  away  from  it  as  if  it  were  something  even 
worse.  Sometimes  God  blesses  a  man  through 
poverty,  sometimes  through  riches,  but  until 
the  rod  blossoms  even  good  Christians  call  it  a 
chastening  rod.  Margaret  had  a  dread  of 
making  her  child  share  Jan's  evil  destiny : 
perhaps  she  was  afraid  of  it  for  herself.  Self 
is  such  an  omnipresent  god,  that  it  is  easy  to 
worship  him  in  the  dark,  and  to  obey 
him  almost  unconsciously.  When  Margaret 
recovered  from  her  faint,  she  was  inclined  to 
think  she  deserved  praise  for  what  she  called 
her  self-denial.  She  knew  also  that  her  father 
would  be  satisfied  with  her  conduct,  and  Peter's 
satisfaction  took  tangible  forms.  He  had 
given  her  ^100  when  she  broke  up  her  home 
and  left  Jan ;  she  certainly  looked  for  some 
money  equivalent  for  her  present  obedience. 
And  yet  she  was  quite  positive  this  latter  con- 
sideration had  in  no  way  at  all  influenced  her 


ii$  JAN  VEDDER*S  WIFE. 

decision  ;  she  was  sure  of  that ;  only,  there  could 
be  no  harm  in  reflecting  that  a  duty  done 
would  have  its  reward. 

As  for  Jan,  he  let  people  say  whatever  they 
chose  to  say  about  him.  To  Tulloch  and  to 
Michael  Snorro  he  described  the  tempest,  and 
the  desperation  with  which  he  had  fought  for 
his  boat  and  his  life ;  but  defended  himself  to 
no  one  else.  Day  after  day  he  passed  in  the 
retreat  which  Snorro  had  made  him,  and  lying 
there  he  could  plainly  hear  the  men  in 
Peter's  store  talk  about  him.  Often  he  met 
the  same  men  in  Torr's  at  night,  and  he  laughed 
bitterly  to  himself  at  their  double  tongues. 
There  are  few  natures  that  would  have  been 
improved  by  such  a  discipline  ;  to  a  man  who 
had  lost  all  faith  in  himself,  it  was  a  moral 
suicide. 

Down,  down,  down,  with  the  rapidity  with 
which  fine  men  go  to  ruin,  went  Jan.  Every  little 
thing  seemed  to  help  him  to  the  bottom ;  yes, 
even  such  a  trifle  as  his  shabby  clothes.  But 
shabby  clothes  were  not  a  trifle  to  Jan.  There  are 
men  as  well  as  women  who  put  on  respectability 
with  respectable  raiment ;  Jan  was  of  that  class. 
He  was  meanly  dressed  and  he  felt  mean,  and  he 


THE  MAN  A  T  DEA  Tff'S  DOOR.  119 

had  no  money  to  buy  a  new  suit.  All  Snorro's 
small  savings  he  had  used  long  before  for  one 
purpose  or  another,  and  his  wages  were  barely 
sufficient  to  buy  food,  and  to  pay  Jan's  bill  at 
Torr's ;  for,  alas !  Jan  would  go  to  Torr's. 
Snorro  was  in  a  sore  strait  about  it,  but  if 
Torr's  bill  were  not  paid,  then  Jan  would  go  to 
Inkster's,  a  resort  of  the  lowest  and  most  sus- 
picious characters.  Between  the  two  evils  he 
chose  the  lesser. 

And  Jan  said  in  the  freedom  of  Torr's  many 
things  which  he  ought  not  to  have  said  :  many 
hard  and  foolish  things,  which  were  repeated 
and  lost  nothing  by  the  process.  Some  of 
them  referred  to  his  wife's  cruelty,  and  to 
Peter  Fae's  interference  in  his  domestic  con- 
cerns. That  he  should  talk  of  Margaret  at  all 
in  such  a  place  was  a  great  wrong.  Peter  took 
care  that  she  knew  it  in  its  full  enormity ;  and 
it  is  needless  to  say,  she  felt  keenly  the  insult 
of  being  made  the  subject  of  discussion  among 
the  sailor  husbands  who  gathered  in  Ragon 
Torr's  kitchen.  Put  a  loving,  emotional  man 
like  Jan  Vedder  in  such  domestic  circumstan- 
ces, add  to  them  almost  hopeless  poverty  and 
social  disgrace,  and  any  one  could  predict  with 
apparent  certainty  his  final  ruin. 


1 20  JAN'  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

Of  course  Jan,  in  spite  of  his  bravado  of  in- 
difference, suffered  very  much.  He  had  fits  of 
remorse  which  frightened  Snorro.  Under 
their  influence  he  often  wandered  off  for  two 
or  three  days,  and  Snorro  endured  during  them 
all  the  agonies  of  a  woman  who  has  lost  her 
child. 

One  night,  after  a  long  tramp  in  the  wind 
and  snow,  he  found  himself  near  Peter  Fae's 
house,  and  a  great  longing  came  over  him  to 
see  his  wife  and  child.  He  knew  that  Peter 
was  likely  to  be  at  home  and  that  all  the  doors 
were  shut.  There  was  a  bright  light  in  the 
sitting-room,  and  the  curtains  were  undrawn. 
He  climbed  the  inclosure  and  stood  beside  the 
window.  He  could  see  the  whole  room  plainly. 
Peter  was  asleep  in  his  chair  on  the  hearth. 
Thora  sitting  opposite  him,  was,  in  her  slow 
quiet  way,  crimping  with  her  fingers  the  lawn 
ruffles  on  the  newly  ironed  clothes.  Margaret, 
with  his  son  in  her  arms,  walked  about  the 
room,  softly  singing  the  child  to  sleep.  He 
knew  the  words  of  the  lullaby — an  old  Finnish 
song  that  he  had  heard  many  a  mother  sing. 
He  could  follow  every  word  of  it  in  Margaret's 
soft,  clear  voice ;  and,  oh,  how  nobly  fair,  bow 


THE  MAN  AT  DEATH'S  DOOR.  121 

calmly    good    and    far    apart    from    him    she 
seemed  ! 

"  Sleep  on,  sleep  on,  sweet  bird  of  the  meadow  ! 

Take  thy  rest,  little  Redbreast. 
Sleep  stands  at  the  door  and  says, 

The  son  of  sleep  stands  at  the  door  and  says, 
Is  there  not  a  little  child  here  ? 

Lying  asleep  in  the  cradle  ? 
A  little  child  wrapped  up  in  swaddling  clothes, 

A  child  reposing  under  a  coverlet  of  wool  ?  " 

Jan  watched  the  scene  until  he  could  endure 
the  heart-torture  no  longer.  Had  he  not  been 
so  shabby,  so  ragged,  so  weather-stained,  he 
would  have  forced  his  way  to  his  wife's  pres- 
ence. But  on  such  apparently  insignificant 
trifles  hang  generally  the  great  events  of  life. 
He  could  not  bear  the  thought  of  this  fair, 
calm,  spotless  woman  seeing  him  in  such  a 
plight.  He  went  back  to  Snorro,  and  was  very 
cross  and  unreasonable  with  him,  as  he  had 
been  many  times  before.  But  Snorro  was  one 
of  those  rare,  noble  souls,  who  can  do  great  and 
hopeless  things,  and  continue  to  love  what  they 
have  seen  fall. 

He  not  only  pitied    and    excused  Jan,  he 


122  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

would  not  suffer  any  one  to  wrong,  or  insult 
him.  All  Torr's  regular  visitors  feared  the  big 
man  with  the  white,  stern  face,  who  so  often 
called  for  Jan  Vedder,  and  who  generally  took 
his  friend  away  with  him.  Any  thing  that  is 
genuine  commands  respect,  and  Snorro's  love 
for  Jan  was  so  true,  so  tender,  and  unselfish* 
that  the  rudest  soul  recognized  his  purity. 
Even  in  Peter's  store,  and  among  the  better 
class  who  frequented  it,  his  honest  affection 
was  not  without  its  result. 

Jan  usually  avoided  the  neighborhood  when 
Peter  was  there,  but  one  afternoon,  being  half 
intoxicated,  he  went  rolling  past,  singing 
snatches  of  "  The  Foula  Reel."  He  was  rag- 
ged and  reckless,  but  through  every  disadvan- 
tage, still  strikingly  handsome.  Michael  Snorro 
lifted  himself  from  the  barrel  which  he  was 
packing,  and  stood  watching  Jan  with  a  face 
full  of  an  inexpressible  sorrow.  Some  one 
made  a  remark,  which  he  did  not  hear,  but  he 
heard  the  low  scornful  laugh  which  followed  it, 
and  he  saw  Peter  Fae,  with  a  smile  of  con- 
tempt, walk  to  the  door,  and  glance  up  the 
street  after  Jan. 

"  One  thing  I    know,"  said  Snorro,  looking 


THE  MAN  A  T  DEA  Tff'S  DOOR.  1 23 

angrily  at  the  group,  "  all  of  you  have  laughed 
in  a  very  great  company,  for  when  a  good  man 
takes  the  road  to  hell,  there  also  laughs  the 
devil  and  all  his  angels.  Yes,  indeed. " 

It  was  as  if  a  thunderbolt  had  fallen  among 
them.  Peter  turned  to  his  books,  and  one  by  one 
the  men  left  the  store,  and  Jan  Vedder's  name 
was  not  spoken  again  before  Snorro  by  any  one. 

During  the  fishing  season  Jan  went  now  and 
then  to  sea,  but  he  had  no  regular  engagement. 
Some  said  he  was  too  unreliable  ;  others,  more 
honest,  acknowledged  they  were  superstitious 
about  him.  "Sooner  or  later  ill  luck  comes 
with  him/'  said  Neil  Scarpa.  "  I  would  as  lief 
tread  on  the  tongs,  or  meet  a  cat  when  going 
fishing  as  have  Jan  Vedder  in  my  boat,"  said 
John  Halcro.  This  feeling  against  him  was 
worse  than  shipwreck.  It  drove  Jan  to  despair. 
After  a  night  of  hard  drinking,  the  idea  of  sui- 
cide began  to  present  itself,  with  a  frightful 
persistence.  What  was  there  for  him  but  a 
life  of  dislike  and  contempt,  or  a  swift  unre- 
gretted  death." 

For  it  must  be  considered  that  in  those  days 
the  ends  of  the  earth  had  not  been  brought 
together.  Emigration  is  an  idea  that  hardly 


124  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

enters  a  Shetlander's  mind  at  the  present  time ; 
then  it  was  a  thing  unknown.  There  were  no 
societies  for  information,  or  for  assistance. 
Every  man  relied  upon  his  own  resources,  and 
Jan  had  none.  He  was  in  reality,  a  soul  made 
for  great  adventures,  condemned  to  fight  life 
in  the  very  narrowest  lists. 

When  the  warm  weather  came,  he  watched 
for  Margaret,  and  made  many  attempts  to  see 
her.  But  she  had  all  the  persistence  of  narrow 
minds,  ^he  had  satisfied  herself  that  her  duty 
to  her  .,cher  and  to  her  son  was  before  all 
other  duties,  and  no  cruelty  is  so  cruel  as  that 
Which  attacks  its  victims  from  behind  the  ram- 
parts of  Duty  and  Conscience. 

Thora  frequently  saw  Jan,  and  he  pleaded 
his  cause  eloquently  to  her.  She  was  very 
sorry  for  him,  and  at  times  also  very  angry 
with  him.  She  could  not  understand  how 
Margaret's  treatment  should  have  taken  all  the 
heart  and  purpose  out  of  his  life.  She  would 
not  let  him  say  so  ;  it  was  like  casting  the 
blame  of  all  his  idleness  and  dissipation  upon 
her  daughter.  She  would  make  no  effort 
towards  a  reconciliation ;  while  Margaret 
held  him  in  such  small  estimation,  she  was 


THE  MAN  A  T  DEA  TH'S  DOOR.  125 

sure  that  there  could  be  no  permanence  in  one, 
even  if  it  could  be  effected. 

Yet  once  or  twice  she  spoke  to  Margaret  in 
Jan's  favor.  If  Margaret  had  desired  to  dis- 
obey her  father,  and  see  her  husband,  Thora's 
sympathies  would  have  been  with  her ;  but  no 
mother  likes  to  put  herself  in  a  position  which 
will  give  her  child  an  opportunity  of  answering 
her  with  a  look  of  reproachful  astonishment. 
Something  very  like  this  had  met  her  sugges- 
tion that  "  Jan  must  love  his  child,  and  long  to 
see  him." 

Margaret  was  almost  angry  at  such  a  sup- 
position. "  Jan  love  his  child !  It  was  impos- 
sible !  No  man  who  did  so,  would  behave  as 
Jan  had  done,  and  was  still  doing.  To  encour- 
age Jan  in  any  way  was  to  disobey  her  father, 
and  throw  herself  and  her  child  upon  Jan's 
mercies.  She  knew  what  they  were.  Even  if 
she  could  see  it  to  be  her  duty  to  sacrifice  her- 
self, on  no  account  would  she  sacrifice  the  babe 
who  had  only  her  to  think  and  care  for  him. 
She  would  do  nothing  in  any  way  to  prejudice 
its  future."  This  was  the  tenor  of  her  constant 
conversation.  It  was  stated  anew  every  morn- 
ing, it  was  reiterated  every  hour  of  the  day ; 


126  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

and  with  every  day's  reiteration,  she  became 
more  certain  of  her  own  wisdom  and  justice. 

One  night,  after  another  useless  effort  to  see 
his  wife,  Jan  went  to  Torr's,  and  found  Hoi 
Skager  there.  Jan  was  in  a  reckless  mood,  and 
the  thought  of  a  quarrel  was  pleasant  to  him. 
Skager  was  inclined  to  humor  him.  They  had 
many  old  grievances  to  go  over,  and  neither  of 
them  picked  their  words.  At  length  Jan 
struck  Skager  across  the  mouth,  and  Skager 
instantly  drew  his  knife. 

In  a  moment  Torr  and  others  had  separated 
the  men.  Skager  was  persuaded  to  leave  the 
house,  and  Jan,  partly  by  force  and  partly  by 
entreaty,  detained.  Skager  was  to  sail  at  mid- 
night, and  Torr  was  determined  that  Jan  should 
not  leave  the  house  until  that  hour  was  passed. 
Long  before  it,  he  appeared  to  have  forgotten 
the  quarrel,  to  be  indeed  too  intoxicated  to 
remember  any  thing.  Torr  was  satisfied,  but 
his  daughter  Suneva  was  not. 

About  ten  o'clock,  Snorro,  sitting  in  the  back 
door  of  the  store,  saw  Suneva  coming  swiftly 
towards  him.  Ere  he  could  speak  she  said, 
"  Skager  and  Jan  have  quarreled  and  knives 
have  been  drawn.  If  thou  knowest  where 


THE  MAN"  A  T  DEA  Tff'S  DOOR.  I2f 

Skager  is  at  anchor,  run  there,  for  I  tell  thee, 
there  was  more  of  murder  than  liquor  in  Jan's 
eyes  this  night.  My  father  thought  to  detain 
him,  but  he  hath  slipped  away,  and  thou  may 
be  sure  he  has  gone  to  find  Skager/* 

Snorro  only  said,  "  Thou  art  a  good  woman, 
Suneva."  He  thought  he  knew  Skager's  har* 
bor;  but  when  he  got  there,  neither  boat  nor 
man  was  to  be  seen.  Skager's  other  ground 
was  two  miles  in  an  opposite  direction  under 
the  Troll  Rock,  and  not  far  from  Peter  Fae's 
house.  Snorro  hastened  there  at  his  utmost 
speed.  He  was  in  time  to  see  Skager's  boat, 
half  a  mile  out  at  sea,  sailing  southward. 
Snorro's  mental  processes  were  slow.  He  stood 
still  to  consider,  and  as  he  mused,  the  solemn 
stillness  of  the  lonely  place  was  broken  by  a 
low  cry  of  pain.  It  was  Jan's  voice.  Among 
a  thousand  voices  Snorro  would  have  known  it. 
In  a  few  moments  he  had  found  Jan,  prone 
upon  the  cliff  edge  bleeding  from  a  wound  in 
his  side. 

He  was  still  sensible  and  he  smiled  at  Snorro, 
saying  slowly,  "  Thou  must  not  be  sorry.  It  is 
best  so." 

Most  fishermen  know  something  of  the  treat- 


128  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

ment  of  a  knife  wound ;  Snorro  staunched  the 
blood-flow,  as  well  as  he  was  able,  and  then 
with  gigantic  strides  went  to  Peter  Fae's. 
Margaret  sat  spinning  beside  her  baby's  cradle, 
Peter  had  gone  to  bed,  Thora  dozed  at  the  fire- 
side. 

The  impatience  of  his  knock  and  voice 
alarmed  the  women,  but  when  Margaret  heard 
it  was  Snorro's  voice,  she  quickly  unfastened 
the  door. 

"  Is  the  store  burning  ?  "  she  asked  angrily, 
"  that  thou  comest  in  such  hot  haste  ?  " 

"  Thy  husband  has  been  murdered.  Take 
thou  water  and  brandy,  and  go  as  quick  as  thou 
canst  run  to  the  Troll's  Rock.  He  lies  there. 
I  am  going  for  the  doctor." 

"  Why  did  thou  come  here,  Michael  Snorro  ? 
Ever  art  thou  a  messenger  of  ill.  I  will  not 

g°-" 

"  Go  thou  at  once,  or  I  will  give  thee  a  name 
thou  wilt  shudder  to  hear.  I  will  give  it  to  thee 
at  kirk,  or  market,  or  wherever  I  meet  thee." 

Snorro  fled  to  the  town,  almost  in  uttering 
the  words,  and  Thora,  who  had  at  once  risen  to 
get  the  water  and  the  brandy,  put  them  into  her 
daughter's  hands.  "  There  is  no  time  now  for 


THE  MAN  A  T  DEA  T&'S  DOOR.  1 29 

talking.  I  will  tell  thy  father  and  send  him 
after  thee.  Shall  we  have  blood  on  our  souls  ? 
All  of  us?" 

"  Oh,  what  shall  I  do  ?    What  shall  I  do  ?  " 
"Art  thou  a  woman?     I  tell  thee,  haste." 
"  I    dare   not — oh,  my   child !     I   will   wake 
father." 

"  I  command  thee  to  go — this  moment." 
Then,  almost    in  a   passion,  Margaret  went. 
The  office  of  mercy  had  been  forced  upon  her. 
She   had    not  been  permitted  to  consider  her 
own  or  her  child's  interest.  No  one  had  thought 
of  her   feelings   in    the    matter.      When    she 
reached  Jan's  side  she  was  still  indignant  at  the 
peremptory  way  in  which  she  had  been  treated. 
He  felt  her  there,  rather  than  saw  her — "  Mar- 
garet !  "  he  said  feebly,  "  Margaret  !  At  last !  " 
"  Yes,  "  she   answered    in    bitter   anger,  "  at 
last.     Hast  thou  called  me  to  see  thy  shameful 
end  ?     A  name  full  of  disgrace  thou  leaves  to 
me  and  to  thy  son." 

"  Forgive  me — I  am  sorry.     Forgive  !  " 
"  I  will  not  forgive  thee.    No  woman  injured 
as  I  have  been,  can  forgive." 

His  helplessness  did  not  touch  her.  Her  own 
wrongs  and  the  wrongs  of  her  child  filled  her 


130  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

heart.  She  was  determined  that  at  this  hour 
he  should  at  least  understand  their  full  enor- 
mity, and  she  spoke  with  all  the  rapid  bitter- 
ness of  a  slow,  cold  nature,  wrought  up  to  an 
unnatural  passion.  In  justifying  herself  she 
forgot  quite  that  she  had  been  sent  to  succor 
him  until  help  arrived.  She  was  turning  away 
when  Jan,  in  a  voice  full  of  misery,  uttered  one 
word  : 

"  Water!" 

Something  womanly  in  her  responded  to  the 
pitiful,  helpless  cry.  She  went  back,  and  kneel- 
ing by  his  side,  put  the  bottle  to  his  mouth. 
The  touch  of  his  head  upon  her  arm  stirred  her 
strangely ;  ere  she  let  it  slip  from  her  hold,  he 
had  fainted. 

"  Oh  Jan  !  Jan  !  Jan  !  My  husband  !  My 
husband  !  Oh  Jan,  dear,  forgive  me  !  Jan,  I  am 
here  !  It  is  thy  Margaret !  I  still  love  thee  ! 
Yes,  indeed,  I  love  thee  !  —  " 

But  it  was  too  late.  There  was  no  response. 
She  looked  in  horror  and  terror  at  the  white 
face  at  her  feet.  Then  she  fled  back  to  the 
house  for  help.  Whether  her  father  liked  it  or 
not,  Jan  must  now  be  brought  there.  In  that 
last  moment  she  had  forgiven  him  every  thing. 


THE  MAN  A  T  DEA  TH'S  DOOR.  131 

All  the  love  of  her  betrothal  had  come  like  a 
great  wave  over  her  heart.  "  Poor  Jan  !  Poor 
Jan!  "  she  sobbed,  as  she  fled  like  a  deer  across 
the  moor. 

Peter  had  been  roused  and  had  reluctantly 
dressed  himself.  In  such  an  hour  of  extremity 
he  would  have  to  give  the  wounded  man  shel- 
ter if  he  were  brought  there.  But  he  tarried  as 
long  as  possible,  hoping  that  Snorro  would 
remove  Jan  and  take  him  into  the  town.  To 
be  roused  from  sleep  to  confront  such  a  problem 
of  duty  was  a  very  unpleasant  affair,  and  Peter 
was  sulkily  tying  his  shoe-strings  when  Mar- 
garet, breathless  and  sobbing,  returned  for 
him. 

Her  impetuosity  and  her  emotion  quite  mas- 
tered him.  She  compelled  him  to  go  with  her 
to  Jan.  But  when  they  reached  the  Trol' 
Rock  Jan  had  disappeared.  There  was  noth- 
ing there  but  the  blue  sailor's  cap  which  he  had 
worn.  No  human  being  was  in  sight.  Any 
party  of  relief  brought  by  Snorro  could  be  seen 
for  a  mile.  Margaret  picked  up  the  cap,  and 
gazed  at  it  in  a  maze  of  anguish.  Only  one 
thing  could  have  happened.  During  her 
absence  consciousness  had  returned  to  Jan, 


132  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

and  he,  poor  soul,  remembering  her  cruel  words, 
and  seeing  that  she  had  left  him  there  alone  to 
die,  had  purposely  edged  himself  over  the  cliff. 
The  sea  was  twenty  feet  deep  below  it.  She 
put  her  hands  before  her  eyes,  and  shrieked 
until  the  welkin  rang  with  her  shrill,  piercing 
cries.  Peter  could  do  nothing  with  her,  she 
would  not  listen  to  him,  and  finally  she  became 
so  frantically  hysterical  that  he  was  alarmed 
for  her  life  and  reason,  and  had  little  oppor- 
tunity that  night  to  make  any  inquiries  about 
his  troublesome  son-in-law. 

Now,  when  God  will  help  a  man,  he  hath  his 
own  messenger.  That  night,  Doctor  Balloch  sat 
in  the  open  door  of  his  house.  This  door  was 
at  the  end  of  a  little  jetty  to  which  his  skiff  was 
tied  ;  and  the  whole  expanse  of  the  beautiful 
bay  was  before  him.  It  was  covered  with 
boats,  idly  drifting  about  under  the  exquisite 
sky.  Light  ripples  of  laughter,  and  sweet 
echoes  of  song  upon  the  waters,  drifted  toward 
him.  He  had  read  his  evening  portion,  and  he 
sat  watching  the  flickering  lights  of  the  chang- 
ing aurora.  The  portion  had  been  the  Nine- 
teenth Psalm,  and  he  was  wishing  that  the 
Sweet  Singer  of  Israel,  who  thought  the  Judean 


THE  MAN  A  T  DBA  TH'S  DOOR.  133 

heavens  "declared  the  glory  of  God,"  could 
have  seen  the  Shetland  skies. 

Suddenly,  and  peremptorily,  a  voice  encom- 
passed him — a  soft,  penetrating  voice,  that  came 
like  the  wind,  he  knew  not  how  or  whence, 
"  Take  thy  boat  and  go  to  the  Troll  Rock." 
He  rose  at  once  and  went  to  the  end  of  the 
jetty.  The  sea,  darkly  blue,  was  smooth  as 
glass,  the  air  clear,  the  majestic  headlands 
imparting  to  the  scene  a  solemn  cathedral 
grandeur.  He  strove  to  shake  off  the  strange 
impression,  but  it  grew  stronger  and  more  im- 
perative, and  he  said  softly,  as  if  answering 
some  one,  "  I  will  go." 

He  returned  to  the  house  and  called  his 
servant  Hamish.  Hamish  and  he  lived  alone, 
and  had  done  so  for  more  than  thirty  years, 
and  they  thoroughly  trusted  each  other. 

"  Untie  the  boat,  Hamish.  We  are  going  for 
a  row.  We  will  go  as  far  as  Troll  Rock." 

This  rock  projected  over  the  sea,  which 
flowed  into  a  large  cave  under  it ;  a  cave  which 
had  long  been  a  favorite  hiding  place  for  smug- 
gled cargoes.  But  when  the  minister  reached 
it,  all  was  silence.  Hamish  looked  at  his  mas- 
ter curiously.  What  could  he  mean  by  resting 


134  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

on  his  oars  and  watching  so  desolate  and  dan« 
gerous  a  place?  Very  soon  both  were  aware  of 
a  human  voice  ;  the  confused,  passionate  echoes 
of  Margaret's  above  them  ;  and  these  had  not 
long  ceased  when  Jan  Vedder  fell  from  the 
rock  into  the  water. 

"  This  man  is  to  be  saved,  Hamish  ;  it  is  what 
we  have  come  for/'  Hamish  quietly  slipped 
into  the  water,  and  when  Jan,  speechless  and 
insensible,  rose  to  the  surface,  he  caught  him 
with  one  arm  and  swam  with  him  to  the  boat. 
In  another  moment  he  was  in  the  bottom  of  it, 
and  when  he  came  to  himself,  his  wound  had 
been  dressed,  and  he  was  in  the  minister's  own 
bed. 

"  Now,  thou  wilt  do  well  enough,  Jan,  only 
thou  must  keep  quiet  body  and  mind." 

"  Tell  no  one  I  am  here.  Thou  wilt  do  that 
for  me  ?  Yes,  thou  wilt.  Let  them  think  I  am 
at  the  bottom  of  the  Troll  Rock — for  God's 
sake." 

"  I  will  tell  no  one,  Jan.  Thou  art  safe  here  ; 
be  at  perfect  rest  about  that  matter." 

Of  course  the  minister  thought  Jan  had  com- 
mitted some  crime.  It  was  natural  for  every 
one  to  suspect  Jan  of  doing  wrong.  But  the 


THE  MAN  A  T  DEA  TJ/'S  DOOR.  1 35 

fact  that  he  had  been  sent  so  obviously  to  save 
him  was,  in  the  doctor's  mind,  an  evidence  of 
the  divine  interest  in  the  youth  which  he  was 
glad  to  share.  He  had  been  appointed  his 
preserver,  and  already  he  loved  him.  He  fully 
trusted  Hamish,  but  he  thought  it  well  to  say 
to  him : 

"  We  will  speak  to  no  one  of  our  row  to  the 
Troll  Rock,  Hamish." 

"  Does  Hamish  ever  talk,  master  ?  " 
"  No,  thou  art  a  wise  man  ;  but  here  there  is 
more  to  guide  than  I  yet  understand.*' 
"  Look  nor  word  of  mine  shall  hinder  it." 
For  four  days  the  doctor  stayed  near  Jan, 
and  never  left  his  house.     "  I  will  be  quiet  and 
let  the  news  find   me,"  he   thought.     It  came 
into  the  manse  kitchen  in  various  forms.     Ham- 
ish received  every   version  of  the  story  with 
that  grave  shake  of  the  head  which  fits  so  ad- 
mirably every  requirement  of  sympathy.     "  It 
was  all  a  great  pity,"   was   his   most   lengthy 
comment ;    but  then    Hamish  never  exceeded 
half  a  dozen  words  on  any  subject. 

On  the  fourth  evening,  which  was  Saturday, 
Peter  Fae  sent  this  message  to  the  minister : 
"  Wilt  thou  come  down  to  my  store  for  the 


'36  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE, 

good  of  a  wretched  soul  ? "  It  was  then 
getting  late,  and  Peter  stood  in  his  shop-door 
alone.  He  pointed  to  Michael  Snorro,  who  sat 
in  a  corner  on  some  seal-skins  in  a  stupor  oi 
grief. 

"  He  hath  neither  eaten  nor  slept  since.  It 
is  pitiful.  Thou  knowest  he  never  had  too 
much  sense — " 

"  I  know  very  clever  men  who  are  fools,  be- 
sides Michael  Snorro.  Go  thy  ways  home.  I 
will  do  what  I  can  for  him — only,  it  had  been 
kinder,  had  thou  sent  for  me  ere  this." 

He  went  to  Snorro  and  sat  down  beside  him. 
"  Thou  wilt  let  me  speak  to  thee,  Snorro.  I 
come  in  God's  name.  Is  it  Jan  ?  " 

"Yes,  it  is  Jan.  My  Jan,  my  Jan,  my  friend  ! 
the  only  one  that  ever  loved  me.  Jan !  Jan  ! 
Jan  !  "  He  said  the  last  words  in  an  intense 
whisper.  It  seemed  as  if  his  heart  would  break 
with  each. 

"  Is  Jan's  loss  all  thy  grief,  Snorro  ?  " 

"  Nay,  there  is  more.  Has  thou  found  it 
out?" 

"  I  think  so.     Speak  to  me." 

"  I  dare  not  speak  it." 

"  It  is  as  sinful  to  think  it.     I   am  thy  true 


THE  MAN  A  T  DEA  TH%  S  DOOR.  137 

friend.  I  come  to  comfort  thee.  Speak  to  me, 
Snorro." 

Then  he  lifted  his  face.  It  was  overspread  by 
an  expression  of  the  greatest  awe  and  sorrow: 

"It  is  also  my  Lord  Christ.  He  hath  de- 
ceived me.  He  said  to  me,  whatsoever  ye  shall 
ask  in  my  name,  that  will  I  do.  I  asked  him 
always,  eve'/y  hour  to  take  care  of  Jan.  If  I 
was  pack'n^1  the  eggs,  or  loading  the  boats,  or 
eating  my  dinner,  my  heart  was  always  pray- 
ing, When  Jan  was  at  sea,  I  asked,  *  take  care 
of  him/  when  he  was  at  Torr's,  I  prayed  then 
the  more,  '  dear  Lord  Christ,  take  care  of  him/ 
I  was  praying  for  him  that  night,  at  the  very 
hour  he  perished.  I  can  pray  no  more  now. 
What  shall  I  do  ?  " 

"  Art  thou  sure  thou  prayed  for  the  right 
thing?" 

"  He  said,  *  whatsoever/  Well,  then,  I  took 
him  at  his  word.  Oh  yes,  I  believed  every 
word  he  said.  At  the  last,  I  thought,  he  will 
surely  save  Jan.  I  will  pray  till  his  time  comes. 
He  will  not  deceive  a  poor  soul  like  me,  for  he 
knows  right  well  that  Snorro  loves  him." 

"And  so  thou  thinkest  that  Christ  Jesus  who 
died  for  thee  hath  deceived  thee  ?  " 


138  JAN  VEDDER'S   WIFE. 

"  Well,  then,  he  hath  forgotten." 

"  Nay,  nay,  Snorro.  He  never  forgets, 
Behold  he  has  graven  thy  name  upon  his  hands. 
Not  on  the  mountains,  for  they  shall  depart ; 
not  on  the  sun,  for  it  shall  grow  dark ;  not  on 
the  skies,  for  they  shall  melt  with  fervent  heat ; 
but  on  his  own  hand,  Snorro.  Now  come  with 
me,  and  I  will  show  thee,  whether  Lord  Christ 
heard  thee  praying  or  not,  and  I  will  tell  thee 
how  he  sent  me,  his  servant  always,  to  answer 
thy  prayer.  I  tell  thee  at  the  end  of  all  this 
thou  shalt  surely  say  :  '  there  hath  not  failed 
one  word  of  all  his  good  promise,  which  he 
promised.' " 

Then  he  lifted  Michael's  cap  and  gave  it  to 
him,  and  they  locked  the  store  door,  and  in 
silence  they  walked  together  to  the  manse.  For 
a  few  minutes  he  left  Snorro  alone  in  the  study. 
There  was  a  large  picture  in  it  of  Christ  upon 
the  cross.  Michael  had  never  dreamed  of  such 
a  picture.  When  the  minister  came  back  he 
found  him  standing  before  it,  with  clasped 
hands  and  streaming  eyes. 

"  Can  thou  trust  him,  Michael  ?  " 

"Unto  death,  sir." 

"Come,  tread  gently.     He  sleeps," 


THE  MAN  A  T  DEA  TH'S  DOOR.  1 39 

Wondering  and  somewhat  awestruck  Michael 
followed  the  doctor  into  the  room  where  Jan 
lay.  One  swift  look  from  the  bed  to  the  smil- 
ing face  of  Jan's  saviour  was  all  Michael 
needed.  He  clasped  his  hands  above  his  head, 
and  fell  upon  his  knees,  and  when  the  doctor 
saw  the  rapture  in  his  face,  he  understood  the 
transfiguration,  and  how  this  mortal  might  put 
on  immortality. 


CHAPTER  VIII, 

DEATH   AND   CHANGE. 

'  Wield  thine  own  arm  ! — the  only  way 
To  know  life  is  by  living." 

WHEN  Jan   awoke  Snorro  was  standing 
motionless   beside   him.       He  feebly 
stretched  out  his  hand,  and  pulled  him  close, 
closer,  until  his  face  was  on  the  pillow  beside 
his  own. 

"  Oh  Jan,  how  could'st  thou  ?  My  heart 
hath  been  nearly  broken  for  thee." 

"  It  is  all  well  now,  Snorro.  I  am  going  to  a 
new  life.  I  have  buried  the  old  one  below  the 
Troll  Rock." 

Until  the  following  night  the  men  remained 
together.  They  had  much  to  talk  of,  much 
that  related  both  to  the  past  and  the  future. 
Jan  was  particularly  anxious  that  no  one  should 
know  that  his  life  had  been  saved :  "  And 
mind  thou  tell  not  my  wife,  Snorro,"  he  said 


DBA  TH  AND   CHANGE.  141 

<  Let  her  think  herself  a  widow ;  that  will 
please  her  best  of  all." 

"  There  might  come  a  time  when  it  would  be 
right  to  speak." 

"  I  can  not  think  it." 

"  She  might  be  going  to  marry  again." 

Jan's  face  darkened.  "  Yes,  that  is  possible 
— well  then,  in  that  case,  thou  shalt  go  to  the 
minister ;  he  will  tell  thee  what  to  do,  or  he 
himself  will  do  it." 

"  She  might  weep  sorely  for  thee,  so  that  she 
were  like  to  die." 

"  Mock  me  not,  Snorro.  She  will  not  weep 
forme.  Well  then,  let  me  pass  out  of  memory, 
until  I  can  return  with  honor." 

"  Where  wilt  thou  go  to  ?  " 

'•  Dost  thou  remember  that  yacht  that  was 
tied  to  the  minister's  jetty  four  weeks  ago?  " 

"  Yes,  I  remember  it." 

"  And  that  her  owner  stayed  at  the  manse 
for  two  days  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  saw  him.     What  then  ?  " 

"  He  will  be  back  again,  in  a  week,  in  a  few 
days,  perhaps  to-morrow.  He  is  an  English 
lord,  and  a  friend  of  the  minister's.  I  shall  go 
away  with  him.  There  is  to  be  a  new  life  for 


142  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

me — another  road  to  take  ;  it  must  be  a  better 
one  than  that  in  which  I  have  stumbled  along 
for  the  last  few  years.  Thou  art  glad  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Jan,  I  am  glad." 

"  If  things  should  happen  so  that  I  can  send 
for  thee,  wilt  thou  come  to  me  ?  " 

"  Yes,  to  the  end  of  the  world  I  will  come. 
Thee  only  do  I  love.  My  life  is  broken  in  two 
without  thee/' 

Every  day  Snorro  watched  the  minister's 
jetty,  hoping,  yet  fearing,  to  see  the  yacht 
which  was  to  carry  Jan  away.  Every  night 
when  the  town  was  asleep,  he  went  to  the 
manse  to  sit  with  his  friend.  At  length  one 
morning,  three  weeks  after  Jan's  disappearance, 
he  saw  the  minister  and  the  English  lord  enter 
Peter's  store  together.  His  heart  turned  sick 
and  heavy  ;  he  felt  that  the  hour  of  parting  was 
near. 

Peter  was  to  send  some  eggs  and  smoked 
geese  on  board  the  yacht,  and  the  minister 
said  meaningly  to  Snorro,  "  Be  sure  thou  puts 
them  on  board  this  afternoon,  for  the  yacht  sails 
southward  on  the  midnight  tide."  Snorro  under- 
stood the  message.  When  the  store  was  closed 
he  made  a  bundle  of  Jan's  few  clothes ;  he  had 


DEA  TH  AND  CHANGE.  143 

washed  and  mended  them  all.  With  them  he 
put  the  only  sovereign  he  possessed,  and  his 
own  dearly-loved  copy  of  the  Gospels.  He 
thought,  "  for  my  sake  he  may  open  them,  and 
then  what  a  comfort  they  will  be  sure  to  give 
him." 

It  was  in  Snorro's  arms  Jan  was  carried  on 
board  at  the  very  last  moment.  Lord  Lynne 
had  given  him  a  berth  in  the  cabin,  and  he 
spoke  very  kindly  to  Snorro.  "  I  have  heard," 
he  said,  "  that  there  is  great  love  between  you 
two.  Keep  your  heart  easy,  my  good  fellow  ;  I 
will  see  that  no  harm  comes  to  your  friend." 
And  the  grateful  look  on  Snorro's  face  so 
touched  him  that  he  followed  him  to  the  deck 
and  reiterated  the  promise. 

It  was  at  the  last  a  silent  and  rapid  parting. 
Snorro  could  not  speak.  He  laid  Jan  in  his 
berth,  and  covered  him  as  tenderly  as  a  mother 
would  cover  her  sick  infant.  Then  he  kissed 
him,  and  walked  away.  Dr.  Balloch,  who 
watched  the  scene,  felt  the  deep  pathos  and 
affection  that  had  no  visible  expression  but  in 
Snorro's  troubled  eyes  and  dropped  head  ;  and 
Lord  Lynne  pressed  his  hand  as  a  last  assurance 
that  he  would  remember  his  promise  concern- 


144  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

Jan's  welfare.  Then  the  anchor  was  lifted,  and 
the  yacht  on  the  tide-top  went  dancing  south- 
ward before  the  breeze. 

At  the  manse  door  the  minister  said,  "  God 
be  thy  consolation,  Snorro!  Is  there  any 
thing  I,  his  servant,  can  do  for  thee  ?  " 

"  Yes,  thou  can  let  me  see  that  picture 
again." 

"Of  the  Crucified ?" 

"  That  is  what  I  need." 

"  Come  then." 

He  took  a  candle  from  Hamish  and  led  him 
into  the  study.  In  the  dim  light,  the  pallid, 
outstretched  figure  and  the  divine  uplifted  face 
had  a  sad  and  awful  reality.  Even  upon  the 
cultivated  mind  and  heart,  fine  pictures  have  a 
profound  effect  ;  on  this  simple  soul,  who  never 
before  had  seen  any  thing  to  aid  his  imagina- 
tion of  Christ's  love,  the  effect  was  far  more 
potent.  Snorro  stood  before  it  a  few  minutes 
full  of  a  holy  love  and  reverence,  then,  inno- 
cently as  a  child  might  have  done,  he  lifted  up 
his  face  and  kissed  the  pierced  feet. 

Dr.  Balloch  was  strangely  moved  and  troubled. 
He  walked  to  the  window  with  a  prayer  on  his 
lips,  but  almost  immediately  returned,  and 
touching  Snorro,  said — - 


DEATH  AND   CHANGE.  145 

"  Take  the  picture  with  thee,  Snorro.  It  is 
thine.  Thou  hast  bought  it  with  that  kiss." 

"  But  thou  art  weeping !  " 

"  Because  I  can  not  love  as  thou  dost.  Take 
what  I  have  freely  given,  and  go.  Ere  long  the 
boats  will  be  in  and  the  town  astir.  Thou  hast 
some  room  to  hang  it  in?" 

•'  I  have  a  room  in  which  no  foot  but  mine 
will  tread  till  Jan  comes  back  again." 

"  And  thou  wilt  say  no  word  of  Jan.  He 
must  be  cut  loose  from  the  past  awhile.  His 
old  life  must  not  be  a  drag  upon  his  new  one. 
We  must  give  him  a  fair  chance." 

"  Thou  knows  well  I  am  Jan's  friend  to  the 
uttermost/' 

Whatever  of  comfort  Snorro  found  in  the 
pictured  Christ,  he  sorely  needed  it.  Life  had 
become  a  blank  to  him.  There  was  his  work, 
certainly,  and  he  did  it  faithfully,  but  even 
Peter  saw  a  great  change  in  the  man.  He  no 
longer  cared  to  listen  to  the  gossip  of  the  store  , 
he  no  longer  cared  to  converse  with  any  one. 
When  there  was  nothing  for  him  to  do,  he  sat 
down  in  some  quiet  corner,  buried  his  head  in 
his  hands,  and  gave  himself  up  to  thought. 

Peter  also  fancied  that  he  shrank  from  him, 


146  JAN  FODDER'S  WIFE. 

and  the  idea  annoyed  him  ;  for  Peter  had  begun 
to  be  sensible  of  a  most  decided  change  in  the 
tone  of  public  opinion  regarding  himself.  It 
had  come  slowly,  but  he  could  trace  and  feel  it. 
One  morning  when  he  and  Tulloch  would  have 
met  on  the  narrow  street,  Tulloch,  to  avoid 
the  meeting,  turned  deliberately  around  and 
retraced  his  steps.  Day  by  day  fewer  of  the 
best  citizens  came  to  pass  their  vacant  hours  in 
his  store.  People  spoke  to  him  with  more 
ceremony,  and  far  less  kindness. 

He  was  standing  at  his  store  door  one  after- 
noon, and  he  saw  a  group  of  four  or  five  men 
stop  Snorro  and  say  something  to  him.  Snorro 
flew  into  a  rage.  Peter  knew  it  by  his  atti- 
tude, and  by  the  passibnate  tones  of  his 
voice.  He  was  vexed  at  him.  Just  at  this 
time  he  was  trying  his  very  best  to  be  concil- 
iating to  all,  and  Snorro  was  undoubtedly  say. 
ing  words  he  would,  in  some  measure,  be  held 
accountable  for. 

When  he  passed  Peter  at  the  store  door,  his 
eyes  were  still  blazing  with  anger,  and  his 
usually  white  face  was  a  vivid  scarlet.  Peter 
followed  him  in,  and  asked  sternly,  "  Is  it  not 
enough  that  I  must  bear  thy  ill-temper?  Who 


DEATH  AND   CHANGE.  .4? 

wert  thou  talking  about?  That  evil  Jan  Ved* 
der,  I  know  thou  wert !  " 

•'  We  were  talking  of  thee,  if  thou  must 
know.'* 

'•  What  wert  thou  saying?  Tell  me  ;  if  thou 
wilt  not,  I  will  ask  John  Scarpa." 

"Thou  wert  well  not  to  ask.  Keep  thy 
tongue  still." 

"  There  is  some  ill-feeling  toward  me.  It 
hath  been  growing  this  long  while.  Is  it  thy 
whispering  against  me  ?  " 

"  Ask  Tulloch  why  he  would  not  meet  thee  ? 
Ask  John  Scarpa  what  Suneva  Glumm  said  last 
night?" 

"  Little  need  for  me  to  do  that,  since  thou 
can  tell  me." 

Snorro  spoke  not. 

"  Snorro  ?  " 

"Yes,  master." 

"  How  many  years  hast  thou  been  with  me?" 

"  Thou  knows  I  came  to  thee  a  little  lad." 

"  Who  had  neither  home  nor  friends  ?  " 

"That  is  true  yet." 

"  Have  I  been  a  just  master  to  thee?" 

"  Thou  hast." 

"  Thou,  too,  hast  been    a   just  and  faithful 


148  JAN  VEDDER' S  WIFE. 

servant.  I  have  trusted  thee  with  every  thing. 
All  has  been  under  thy  thumb.  I  locked  not 
gold  from  thee.  I  counted  not  after  thee.  1 
have  had  full  confidence  in  thee.  Well,  then,  it 
seems  that  my  good  name  is  also  in  thy  hands. 
Now,  if  thou  doest  thy  duty,  thou  wilt  tell  me 
what  Tulloch  said." 

"  He  said  thou  had  been  the  ruin  of  a  better 
man  than  thyself/' 

"  Meaning  Jan  Vedder?  " 

"  That  was  whom  he  meant." 

"Dost  thou  think  so?" 

"  Yes,  I  think  so,  too/' 

"  What  did  Suneva  Glumm  say  ?  " 

"  Well,  then,  last  night,  when  the  kitchen  was 
full,  they  were  talking  of  poor  Jan  ;  and  Suneva 
— thou  knowest  she  is  a  widow  now  and  gone 
back  to  her  father's  house — Suneva,  she  strode 
up  to  the  table,  and  she  struck  her  hand  upon 
it,  and  said,  'Jan  was  a  fisherman,  and  it  is 
little  of  men  you  fishers  are,  not  to  make 
inquiry  about  his  death.  Here  is  the  matter/ 
she  said.  '  Snorro  finds  him  wounded,  and 
Snorro  goes  to  Peter  Fae's  and  sends  Jan's  wife 
to  her  husband.  Margaret  Vedder  says  she 
saw  him  alive  and  gave  him  water,  and  went 


DEA  TH  AND  CHANGE.  149 

back  for  Peter  Fae.  Then  Jan  disappears,  and 
when  Snorro  gets  back  with  a  doctor  and  four 
other  men,  there  is  no  Jan  to  be  found.  I  say 
that  Margaret  Vedder  or  Peter  Fae  know  what 
came  of  Jan,  one,  or  both  of  them,  know.  But 
because  the  body  has  not  been  found,  there 
hath  been  no  inquest,  and  his  mates  let  him  go 
out  of  life  like  a  stone  dropped  into  the  sea, 
and  no  more  about  it." 

"  They  told  thee  that  ?  " 

"  Ay,  they  did  ;  and  John  Scarpa  said  thou 
had  long  hated  Jan,  and  he  did  believe  thou 
would  rather  lose  Jan's  life  than  save  it.  Yes, 
indeed  !  " 

"  And  thou  ?  " 

"  I  said  some  angry  words  for  thee.  Ill  thou 
hast  been  to  Jan,  cruel  and  unjust,  but  thou  did 
not  murder  him.  I  do  not  think  thou  would  do 
that,  even  though  thou  wert  sure  no  man  would 
know  it.  If  I  had  believed  thou  hurt  a  hair  of 
Jan's  head,  I  would  not  be  thy  servant  to-day." 

"  Thou  judgest  right  of  me,  Snorro.  I 
harmed  not  Jan.  I  never  saw  him.  I  did  not 
want  him  brought  to  my  house,  and  therefore 
I  made  no  haste  to  go  and  help  him  ;  but  I  hurt 
not  a  hair  of  his  head." 


150  JAN   VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

"  I  will  maintain  that  every  where,  and  to  all.' 
"  What  do  they  think  came  of  Jan  ?  " 
"  What  else,  but  that  he  was  pushed  over  the 
cliff-edge  ?     A  very  little  push  would  put  him 
in  the  sea,  and  the  under-currents  between  here 
and  the  Vor  Ness  might  carry  the  body  far 
from  this  shore.     All  think  that  he  hath  been 
drowned/' 

Then  Peter  turned  away  and  sat  down,  silent 
and  greatly  distressed.  A  new  and  terrible 
suspicion  had  entered  his  mind  with  Snorro's 
words.  He  was  quite  sure  of  his  own  innocence, 
but  had  Margaret  pushed  Jan  over  ?  From  her 
own  words  it  was  evident  she  had  been  angry 
and  hard  with  him.  Was  this  the  cause  of  the 
frantic  despair  he  had  witnessed.  It  struck  him 
then  that  Margaret's  mother  had  ever  been  cold 
and  silent,  and  almost  resentful  about  the  matter. 
She  had  refused  to  talk  of  it.  Her  whole 
behavior  had  been  suspicious.  He  sat  brooding 
over  the  thought,  sick  at  heart  with  the  sin  and 
shame  it  involved,  until  Snorro  said — "  It  is 
time  to  shut  the  door."  Then  he  put  on  his 
cloak  and  went  home. 

Home  !  How  changed  his  home  had  become  ! 
It  was  a  place  of  silence  and  unconfessed  sor> 


DEA  TH  AND  CHANGE.  15 1 

row.  All  its  old  calm  restfulness  had  gone. 
Very  soon  after  Jan's  disappearance,  Thorahad 
taken  to  her  bed,  and  she  had  never  left  it 
since.  Peter  recognized  that  she  was  dying, 
and  this  night  he  missed  her  sorely.  Her  quiet 
love  and  silent  sympathy  had  been  for  many  a 
year  a  tower  of  strength  to  him.  But  he  could 
not  carry  this  trouble  to  her,  still  less  did  he 
care  to  say  any  thing  to  Margaret.  For  the 
first  time  he  was  sensible  of  a  feeling  of  irrita- 
tion in  her  presence.  Her  white  despairing 
face  angered  him.  For  all  this  trouble,  in  one 
way  or  another,  she  was  responsible. 

He  felt,  too,  that  full  of  anxiety  as  he  was, 
she  was  hardly  listening  to  a  word  he  said. 
Her  ears  were  strained  to  catch  the  first  move- 
ment of  her  child,  who  was  sleeping  in  the  next 
room.  To  every  one  he  had  suddenly  become 
of  small  importance.  Both  at  home  and 
abroad  he  felt  this.  To  such  bitter  reflections 
he  smoked  his  pipe,  while  Margaret  softly  sung 
to  her  babe,  and  Thora,  with  closed  eyes,  lay 
slowly  breathing  her  life  away  :  already  so  far 
from  this  world,  that  Peter  felt  as  if  it  would 
be  cruel  selfishness  to  trouble  her  more  with  its 
wrongs  and  its  anxieties. 


15 a  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

Four  days  afterward,  Thora  said  to  hei 
daughter :  "  Margaret,  I  had  a  token  early  this 
morning.  I  saw  a  glorious  ship  come  sailing 
toward  me.  Her  sails  were  whiter  than  snow 
under  the  moonshine ;  and  at  her  bow  stood 
my  boy,  Willie,  my  eldest  boy,  and  he  smiled 
and  beckoned  me.  I  shall  go  away  with  the 
next  tide.  Ere  I  go,  thou  tell  me  some- 
thing?" 

"  Whatever  thou  ask  me." 

"  What  came  of  poor  Jan  Vedder?" 

Then  Margaret  understood  the  shadow  that 
had  fallen  between  herself  and  her  mother  ; 
the  chill  which  had  repressed  all  conversation ; 
the  silent  terror  which  had  perchance  hastened 
death. 

"  Oh,  mother  !  "  she  cried,  "  did  thou  really 
have  this  fear?  I  never  harmed  Jan.  I  left 
him  on  the  cliff.  God  knows  I  speak  the  truth. 
I  know  no  more." 

" Thank  God!  Now  I  can  go  in  peace." 
Margaret  had  fallen  on  her  knees  by  the  bed- 
side, and  Thora  leaned  forward  and  kissed 
her. 

"Shall  I  send  for  father?" 

"He  will  come  in  time." 


DEA  TH  AND  CHANGE.  153 

A  few  hours  afterward  she  said  in  a  voice 
already  far  away,  as  if  she  had  called  back  from 
a  long  distance,  "  When  Jan  returns  be  thou 
kinder  to  him,  Margaret." 

"  Will  he  come  back  ?    Mother,  tell  me !  " 

But  there  was  no  answer  to  the  yearning 
cry.  Never  another  word  from  the  soul  that 
had  now  cast  earth  behind  it.  Peter  came 
home  early,  and  stood  gloomily  and  sorrowfully 
beside  his  companion.  Just  when  the  tide 
turned,  he  saw  a  momentary  light  flash  over 
the  still  face,  a  thrill  of  joyful  recognition,  a 
sigh  of  peace,  instantly  followed  by  the  pallor, 
and  chill,  and  loneliness  of  death. 

At  the  last  the  end  had  come  suddenly. 
Peter  had  certainly  known  that  his  wife  was 
dying,  but  he  had  not  dreamed  of  her  slipping 
off  her  mortal  vesture  so  rapidly.  He  was 
shocked  to  find  how  much  of  his  own  life  would 
go  with  her.  Nothing  could  ever  be  again  just 
as  it  had  been.  It  troubled  him  also  that  there 
had  been  no  stranger  present.  The  minister 
ought  to  have  been  sent  for,  and  some  two  or 
three  of  Thora's  old  acquaintances.  There 
was  fresh  food  for  suspicion  in  Thora  Fae  being 
allowed  to  pass  out  of  life  just  at  this  time, 


154  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

with  none  but  her  husband  and  daughter  near, 
and  without  the  consolation  of  religious  rites. 

Peter  asked  Margaret  angrily,  why  she  had 
neglected  to  send  for  friends  and  for  the 
minister? 

"  Mother  was  no  worse  when  thou  went  to 
the  store  this  morning.  About  noon  she  fell 
asleep,  and  knew  nothing  afterward.  It  would 
have  been  cruel  to  disturb  her." 

But  in  her  own  heart  Margaret  was  con- 
scious that  under  any  circumstances  she  would 
have  shrunk  from  bringing  strangers  into  the 
house.  Since  Jan's  disappearance,  she  had 
been  but  once  to  kirk,  for  that  once  had  been 
an  ordeal  most  painful  and  humiliating.  None 
of  her  old  friends  had  spoken  to  her ;  many 
had  even  pointedly  ignored  her.  Women  excel 
in  that  negative  punishment  which  they  deal 
out  to  any  sister  whom  they  conceive  to  have 
deserved  it.  In  a  score  of  ways  Margaret 
Vedder  had  been  made  to  feel  that  she  was 
under  a  ban  of  disgrace  and  suspicion. 

Some  of  this  humiliation  had  not  escaped 
Peter's  keen  observation  ;  but  at  the  time  he 
had  regarded  it  as  a  part  of  the  ill-will  which 
he  also  was  consciously  suffering  from,  and 


DEA  TH  AND  CHANGE.  155 

which  he  was  shrewd  enough  to  associate  with 
the  mystery  surrounding  the  fate  of  his  son-in- 
law.  Connecting  it  with  what  Snorro  had  said, 
he  took  it  for  further  proof  against  his  daugh- 
ter. Thora's  silence  and  evident  desire  to 
be  left  to  herself,  were  also  corroborative. 
Did  Thora  also  suspect  her?  Was  Margaret 
afraid  to  bring  the  minister,  lest  at  the  last 
Thora  might  say  something  ?  For  the  same 
reason,  had  Thora's  old  intimates  been  kept 
away?  Sometimes  the  dying  reveal  things 
unconsciously ;  was  Margaret  afraid  of  this  ? 
When  once  suspicion  is  aroused,  every  thing 
feeds  it.  Twenty-four  hours  after  the  first 
doubt  had  entered  Peter's  heart,  he  had  almost 
convinced  himself  that  Margaret  was  respon- 
sible for  Jan's  death. 

He  remembered  then  the  stories  in  the 
Sagas  of  the  fair,  fierce  women  of  Margaret's 
race.  A  few  centuries  previously  they  had 
ruled  things  with  a  high  hand,  and  had  seldom 
scrupled  to  murder  the  husbands  who  did  not 
realize  their  expectations.  He  knew  some- 
thing of  Margaret's  feelings  by  his  own ;  her 
wounded  self-esteem,  her  mortification  at  Jan's 
/allures,  her  .anger  at  her  poverty  and  loss  of 


*56  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

money,  her  contempt  for  her  own  position.  If 
she  had  been  a  man,  he  could  almost  have 
excused  her  for  killing  Jan  ;  that  is,  if  she  had 
done  it  in  fair  fight.  But  crimes  which  are 
unwomanly  in  their  nature  shock  the  hardest 
heart,  and  it  was  unwomanly  to  kill  the  man 
she  had  loved  and  chosen,  and  the  father  of  her 
child ;  it  was,  above  all,  a  cowardly,  base  deed 
to  thrust  a  wounded  man  out  of  life.  He  tried 
to  believe  his  daughter  incapable  of  such  a 
deed,  but  there  were  many  hours  in  which  he 
thought  the  very  worst  of  her. 

Margaret  had  no  idea  that  her  father  nursed 
such  suspicions ;  she  felt  only  the  change  and 
separation  between  them.  Her  mother's  doubt 
had  been  a  cruel  blow  to  her ;  she  had  never 
been  able  to  speak  of  it  to  her  father.  That 
he  shared  it,  never  occurred  to  her.  She  was 
wrapped  up  in  her  own  sorrow  and  shame,  and 
at  the  bottom  of  her  heart  inclined  to  blame 
her  father  for  much  of  the  trouble  between  her 
and  Jan.  If  he  had  dealt  fairly  with  Jan  after 
the  first  summer's  fishing,  Jan  would  never 
have  been  with  Skager.  And  how  eager  he 
had  been  to  break  up  her  home!  After  all, 
Jan  had  been  the  injured  man ;  he  ought  to 


DEA  TH  AND  CHANGE.  57 

have  had  some  of  her  tocher  down.  A  little 
ready  money  would  have  made  him  satisfied 
and  happy ;  her  life  and  happiness  had  been 
sacrificed  to  her  father's  avarice.  She  was  sure 
now  that  if  the  years  could  be  called  back,  she 
would  be  on  Jan's  side  with  all  her  heart. 

Two  souls  living  under  the  same  roof  and 
nursing  such  thoughts  against  each  other  were 
not  likely  to  be  happy.  If  they  had  ever  come 
to  open  recrimination,  things  uncertain  might 
have  been  explained ;  but,  for  the  most  part, 
there  was  only  silence  in  Peter's  house.  Hour 
after  hour,  he  sat  at  the  fireside,  and  never 
spoke  to  Margaret.  She  grew  almost  hysteri- 
cal under  the  spell  of  this  irresponsive  trouble. 
Perhaps  she  understood  then  why  Jan  had  fled 
to  Torr's  kitchen  to  escape  her  own  similar 
exhibitions  of  dissatisfaction. 

As  the  months  wore  on,  things  in  the  store 
gradually  resumed  their  normal  condition, 
Jan  was  dead,  Peter  was  living,  the  tide  of  pop- 
ular feeling  turned  again.  Undoubtedly,  how- 
ever, it  was  directed  by  the  minister's  positive, 
almost  angry,  refusal  to  ask  Peter  before  the 
kirk  session  to  explain  his  connection  with 
Jan's  disappearance.  He  had  never  gone  much 


158  JAN  rEDDER'S  WIFE. 

to  Peter's  store,  but  for  a  time  he  showed  his 
conviction  of  Peter's  innocence  by  going  every 
day  to  sit  with  him.  It  was  supposed,  of  course, 
that  he  had  talked  the  affair  thoroughly  over 
with  Peter,  and  Peter  did  try  at  various  times 
to  introduce  the  subject.  But  every  such 
attempt  was  met  by  a  refusal  in  some  sort  on 
the  minister's  part.  Once  only  he  listened  to 
his  complaint  of  the  public  injustice. 

"  Thou  can  not  control  the  wind,  Peter,"  he 
said  in  reply  ;  "stoop  and  let  it  pass  over  the^. 
I  believe  and  am  sure  thy  hands  are  clear  of 
Jan's  blood.  As  to  how  far  thou  art  otherwise 
guilty  concerning  him,  that  is  between  God  and 
thy  conscience.  But  let  me  say,  if  I  were 
asked  to  call  thee  before  the  kirk  session  on 
the  count  of  unkindness  and  injustice,  I  would 
not  feel  it  to  be  my  duty  to  refuse  to  do  so." 
Having  said  this  much,  he  put  the  matter  out 
of  their  conversation  ;  but  still  such  a  visible 
human  support  in  his  dark  hour  was  a  great 
comfort  to  Peter. 

It  was  a  long  and  dreary  winter.  It  is 
amazing  how  long  time  can  be  when  Sorrow 
counts  the  hours.  Sameness,  too,  adds  to 
grief ;  there  was  nothing  to  vary  the  days. 


DEA  TH  AND  CHANGE.  !$* 

Margaret  went  to  bed  every  night  full  of  that 
despairing  oppression  which  hopes  nothing 
from  the  morrow.  Even  when  the  spring  came 
again  her  life  had  the  same  uniform  gray  tinge. 
Peter  had  his  fisheries  to  look  forward  to,  and 
by  the  end  of  May  he  had  apparently  quite 
recovered  himself.  Then  he  began  to  be  a 
little  more  pleasant  and  talkative  to  his  daugh- 
ter. He  asked  himself  why  he  should  any 
longer  let  the  wraith  of  Jan  Vedder  trouble  his 
life  ?  At  the  last  he  had  gone  to  help  him  ;  if 
he  were  not  there  to  be  helped,  that  was  not  his 
fault.  As  for  Margaret,  he  knew  nothing  posi- 
tively against  her.  Her  grief  and  amazement 
had  seemed  genuine  at  the  time;  very  likely  it 
was ;  at  any  rate,  it  was  better  to  bury  forever 
the  memory  of  a  man  so  inimical  to  the  peace 
and  happiness  of  the  Faes. 

The  fishing  season  helped  him  to  carry  out 
this '  resolution.  His  hands  were  full.  His 
store  was  crowded.  There  were  a  hundred 
things  that  only  Peter  could  do  for  the  fish- 
ers. Jan  was  quite  forgotten  in  the  press  and 
hurry  of  a  busier  season  than  Lerwick  had  ever 
seen.  Peter  was  again  the  old  bustling,  conse- 
quential potentate,  the  most  popular  man  in 


160  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

the  town,  and  the  most  necessary.  He  cared 
little  that  Tulloch  still  refused  to  meet  him  ;  he 
only  smiled  when  Suneva  Glumm  refused  to 
let  him  weigh  her  tea  and  sugar,  and  waited 
for  Michael  Snorro. 

Perhaps  Suneva's  disdain  did  annoy  him  a 
little.  No  man  likes  to  be  scorned  by  a  good 
and  a  pretty  woman.  It  certainly  recurred  to 
Peter's  mind  more  often  than  seemed  neces- 
sary, and  made  him  for  a  moment  shrug  his 
shoulders  impatiently,  and  mutter  a  word  or 
two  to  himself. 

One  lovely  moonlight  night,  when  the  boats 
were  all  at  sea,  and  the  town  nearly  deserted, 
Peter  took  his  pipe  and  rambled  out  fora  walk. 
He  was  longing  for  some  womanly  sympathy, 
and  had  gone  home  with  several  little  matters 
on  his  heart  to  talk  over  with  Margaret.  But 
unfortunately  the  child  had  a  feverish  cold,  and 
how  could  she  patiently  listen  to  fishermen's 
squabbles,  and  calculations  of  the  various 
"takes,"  when  her  boy  was  fretful  and  suffer- 
ing? So  Peter  put  on  his  bonnet,  and  with  his 
pipe  in  his  mouth,  rambled  over  the  moor.  He 
had  not  gone  far  before  he  met  Suneva  Glumm. 
Under  ordinary  circumstances  he  would  have 


DEATH  AND  CHANGE.  l6l 

let  her  pass  him,  but  to-night  he  wanted  to 
talk,  and  even  Suneva  was  welcome.  He  sud- 
denly determined  "  to  have  it  out  with  her," 
and  without  ceremony  he  called  to  her. 

"  Let  me  speak  to  thee,  Suneva ;  I  have  some- 
thing to  say." 

She  turned  and  faced  him  :  "  Well  then,  say 
it." 

"  What  have  I  done  to  get  so  much  of  thy 
ill-will  ?  I,  that  have  been  friends  with  thee 
since  I  used  to  lift  thee  over  the  counter  and 
give  thee  a  sweet  lozenger  ?  " 

"Thou  did  treat  poor  Jan  Vedder  so 
badly." 

"And  what  is  Jan  Vedder  to  thee,  that  thou 
must  lift  his  quarrel  ?  " 

"  He  was  my  friend,  then." 

"  And  thy  lover,  perhaps.  I  have  heard  that 
he  loved  thee  before  he  ever  saw  my  Margaret 
when  she  was  at  school  in  Edinburgh." 

"  Thou  hast  heard  lies  then  ;  but  if  he  had 
loved  me  and  if  I  had  been  his  wife,  Jan  had 
been  a  good  man  this  day ;  good  and  loving. 
Yes,  indeed  !  " 

"  Art  thou  sure  he  is  dead  ?  " 

"  Peter  Fae,  if  any  one  can  answer  that  ques* 


162  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

tion,  thou  can ;  thou  and  thy  daughter  Mar- 
garet." 

"  I  have  heard  thou  hast  said  this  before 
now." 

"Ay,  I  have  said  it  often,  and  I  think  it." 

"  Now,  then,  listen  to  me,  and  see  how  thou 
hast  done  me  wrong." 

Then  Peter  pleaded  his  own  cause,  and  he 
pleaded  it  with  such  cleverness  and  eloquence 
that  Suneva  quite  acquitted  him. 

"  I  believe  now  thou  art  innocent,"  she  an- 
swered calmly.  "  The  minister  told  me  so  long 
ago.  I  see  now  that  he  was  right."  Then  she 
offered  Peter  her  hand,  and  he  felt  so  pleased 
and  grateful  that  he  walked  with  her  all  the 
way  to  the  town.  For  Suneva  had  a  great  deal 
of  influence  over  the  men  who  visited  Torr's, 
and  most  of  them  did  visit  Torr's.  They 
believed  all  she  said.  They  knew  her  warm, 
straightforward  nature,  and  her  great  beauty 
gave  a  kind  of  royal  assurance  to  her  words. 

7eter  was  therefore  well  pleased  that  he  had 
secured  her  good  will,  and  especially  that  he  had 
convinced  her  of  his  entire  innocence  regarding 
Jan's  life.  If  the  subject  ever  came  up  over  the 
fishers'  glasses,  she  was  a  partisan  worth  hav- 


DEA  TH  AND  CHANGE.  1 63 

ing.  He  went  home  well  satisfied  with  himself 
for  the  politic  stroke  he  had  made,  and  with  the 
success  which  had  attended  it. 

Margaret  had  seen  her  father  talking  and 
walking  with  Suneva,  and  she  was  very  much 
offended  at  the  circumstance.  In  her  anger 
she  made  a  most  imprudent  remark — "  My 
mother  not  a  year  dead  yet !  Suneva  is  a  bold, 
bad  woman  !  " 

"  What  art  thou  thinking  of  ?  Let  me  tell 
thee  it  was  of  Jan  Vedder,  and  Jan  Vedder 
only,  that  we  spoke." 

Not  until  that  moment  had  it  struck  Peter 
that  Suneva  was  a  widow,  and  he  a  widower. 
But  the  thought  once  entertained  was  one  he 
was  not  disposed  to  banish.  He  sat  still  half 
an  hour  and  recalled  her  bright  eyes,  and  good, 
cheerful  face,  and  the  pleasant  confidential  chat 
they  had  had  together.  He  felt  comforted  even 
in  the  memory  of  the  warm  grip  of  her  hand, 
and  her  sensible,  honorable  opinions.  Why 
should  he  not  marry  again  ?  He  was  in  the 
prime  of  life,  and  he  was  growing  richer  every 
year.  The  more  he  thought  of  Suneva  the 
warmer  his  heart  grew  toward  her. 

He  was  not  displeased  when  next  day  one  of 


164  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 


his  old  comrades  told  him  in  a  pawkie,  meaning 
way,  that  he  had  "seen  him  walking  with  Glumm's 
handsome  widow."  A  man  nearly  sixty  is  just 
as  ready  to  suppose  himself  fascinating  as  a  man 
of  twenty.  Peter  had  his  courtiers,  and  they 
soon  found  out  that  he  liked  to  be  twitted  about 
Suneva  ;  in  a  little  while  a  marriage  between 
the  handsome  widow  and  the  rich  merchant 
was  regarded  as  a  very  probable  event. 

When  once  the  thought  of  love  and  marriage 
has  taken  root  in  a  man's  heart  it  grows 
rapidly.  The  sight  of  Suneva  became  daily 
more  pleasant  to  Peter.  Every  time  she  came 
to  the  store  he  liked  her  better.  He  took  care 
to  let  her  see  this,  and  he  was  satisfied  to 
observe  that  his  attentions  did  not  prevent  her 
visits. 

In  a  few  weeks  he  had  quite  made  up  his 
mind  ;  he  was  only  watching  for  a  favorable 
opportunity  to  influence  Suneva.  In  August, 
at  the  Fisherman's  Foy,  it  came.  Peter  was 
walking  home  one  night,  a  little  later  than 
usual,  and  he  met  Suneva  upon  the  moor.  His 
face  showed  his  satisfaction.  "  Long  have  I 
watched  for  this  hour,"  he  said  ;  "  now  thou  must 
walk  with  me  a  little,  for  I  have  again  some 


DEA  TH  AND  CHANGE.  165 

thing  to  say  to  thee.  Where  hast  thou  been, 
Suneva?  " 

11  Well,  then,  I  took  charge  of  Widow  Thor- 
kel's  knitting  to  sell  it  for  her.  She  is  bed- 
ridden, thou  knows.  I  got  a  good  price  for  her, 
and  have  been  to  carry  her  the  money." 

"  Thou  art  a  kind  woman.  Now,  then,  be 
kind  to  me  also.  I  want  to  have  thee  for  my 
wife." 

"  What  will  thy  daughter  say  to  that  ?  She 
never  liked  me — nor  have  I  much  liked  her." 

"  It  will  be  long  ere  I  ask  my  daughter  if  I 
shall  do  this  or  that.  It  is  thee  I  ask.  Wilt 
thou  be  my  wife,  Suneva  ?  " 

"  It  would  not  be  a  bad  thing." 

"  It  would  be  a  very  good  thing  for  me,  and 
for  thee  also.  I  should  have  thy  pleasant  face, 
and  thy  good  heart,  and  thy  cheerful  company 
at  my  fireside.  I  will  be  to  thee  a  loving  hus- 
band. I  will  give  thee  the  house  I  live  in,  with 
all  its  plenishing,  and  I  will  settle  £70  a  year  on 
thee." 

"  That  is  but  a  little  thing  for  thee  to  do." 

"Then  I  will  make  it  a  ;£ioo  a  year.  Now 
what  dost  thou  say  ?  " 

"  I  will  marry  thee,  Peter,  and  I  will  do  my 


1 66  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

duty  to  thee,  and  make  thee  happy."  Then 
she  put  her  hand  in  his,  and  he  walked  home 
with  her. 

Next  day  all  Lerwick  knew  that  Peter  was 
going  to  marry  Glumm's  handsome  widow. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

JAN  AT    HIS    POST. 

"  Then  like  an  embryo  bird 
One  day,  he  knew  not  how,  but  God  that  morn 
Had  pricked  his  soul— he  cracked  his  shelly  case,  and 
Claimed  his  due  portion  in  a  larger  life. 
Into  new  life  he  starts,  surveys  the  world 
With  bolder  scope,  and  breathes  more  ample  breath." 

WITH  a  great  sigh  of  content  Jan  resigned 
himself  to  rest  when  the  parting  was 
over;  and  "The  Lapwing/*  with  wind  and  tide 
in  her  favor,  went  almost  flying  down  the  black 
North  Sea.  The  motion  of  the  vessel  and  the 
scent  of  the  salt  breeze  were  like  his  mother's 
lap  and  his  native  air.  He  had  cast  off  his  old 
life  like  an  old  garment.  Michael  Snorro  and 
Dr.  Balloch  were  the  only  memories  of  it  he 
desired  to  carry  into  his  new  one.  But  at  the 
first  hour  he  could  not  even  think  of  them. 
He  only  wanted  to  sleep. 


168  JAN  VEDDER*S  WIFE. 

Very  soon  sleep  came  to  him,  steeped  him 
from  head  to  feet  in  forgetfulness,  lulled  him 
fathoms  deep  below  the  tide  of  life  and  feel- 
ing. It  was  after  twelve  the  next  noon  when 
he  opened  his  eyes.  Lord  Lynne  was  sitting 
at  the  cabin  table  just  opposite  his  berth.  It 
took  Jan  two  or  three  moments  to  remember 
where  he  was,  and  during  them  Lord  Lynne 
looked  up  and  smiled  at  him.  Jan  smiled 
back  a  smile  frank  and  trustful  as  a  child's.  It 
established  his  position  at  once.  Lord  Lynne 
had  been  wondering  what  that  position  was  to 
be,  and  he  had  decided  to  let  Jan's  unconscious 
behavior  settle  it.  Even  an  animal,  or  a  bird, 
that  trusts  us,  wins  us.  The  face  that  Jan 
turned  to  Lord  Lynne  was  just  such  a  face  as 
he  would  have  turned  to  Snorro — it  trusted 
every  thing,  it  claimed  every  thing,  and  every 
thing  was  given  it. 

"  You  have  had  your  health-sleep,  Vedder; 
I  dare  say  you  are  hungry  now  ?  " 

"  Very  hungry,"  answered  Jan.  "  Is  it 
breakfast  time?" 

"You  mean  is  it  lunch  time?  You  will  have 
to  put  two  meals  into  one.  Shall  I  order  you 
some  fresh  fish,  and  eggs,  and  a  broiled  bird  ?  " 


IAN  A  T  HIS  POST.  169 

"  The  thought  of  them  is  good." 
"  And  some  roast  mutton  and  potatoes?" 
"Yes,  and  plenty  of  tea  if  thou  pleases." 
My   lord  had   his   lunch  while   Jan   ate  his 
breakfast,  and  a  very  pleasant  meal  they  made 
of  it.     The  yacht  was  tossing  and  pitching  a 
good  deal,  but  they  were  leaving  the  islands 
behind  and  sailing  fast  toward  smoother  waters 
and   brighter  skies.     Jan  improved  with  every 
hour's  flight,  and  he  would  gladly  have  left  his 
berth  had  Lord  Lynne  permitted  it. 

"  At  Aberdeen,"  he  said,  "  you  shall  go  on 
shore,  and  see  a  physician.  Dr.  Balloch  thinks 
that  he  has  treated  you  properly,  but  I  promised 
him  to  make  sure  of  it." 

The  decision  at  Aberdeen  was  highly  favor- 
able. Jan  was  assured  that  he  might  be  on 
deck  a  few  hours  every  day,  with  great  advan- 
tage to  his  health.  They  remained  in  Aberdeen 
two  days.  On  the  second  day  a  trunk  bearing 
his  name  was  brought  on  board.  Lord  Lynne 
was  on  shore  at  the  time,  but  his  valet  had  it 
taken  to  Jan's  room  and  opened.  It  contained 
a  quantity  of  linen  and  clothing. 

Jan  had  a  love  for  good  clothing.  He  felt 
its  influence,  and  without  reasoning  about  the 


170  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

matter,  felt  that  it  influenced  every  one  else. 
When  he  had  put  on  the  linen,  and  a  yachting 
suit  with  its  gilt  buttons,  and  had  knotted  the 
handkerchief  at  his  neck,  he  felt  that  in  all 
eyes  he  was  a  different  being  from  Vedder  the 
fisherman. 

It  would  have  been  a  difficult  matter  to  Lord 
Lynne  to  have  given  clothing  to  some  men, 
but  Jan  had  not  a  vulgar  feeling.  He  made 
no  protestations,  no  excuses,  no  promises  of 
repayment ;  he  was  not  offensively  demon^ 
strative  in  his  gratitude.  He  took  the  gift,  as 
the  gift  had  been  given,  with  pleasure  and  con- 
fidence, and  he  looked  handsome  and  noble  in 
every  thing  he  put  on. 

Lord  Lynne  was  proud  of  him.  He  liked 
to  see  his  crew  watch  Jan.  He  encouraged  his 
valet  to  tell  him  what  they  said  of  him. 
Every  one  had  invented  some  romance  about 
the  yacht's  visitor ;  no  one  supposed  him  to  be 
of  less  than  noble  birth.  The  cook  had  a 
theory  that  he  was  some  prince  who  had  got 
into  trouble  with  his  father.  The  secrecy  with 
which  he  had  been  brought  on  board  at  mid- 
night, his  scarcely  healed  wound,  the  disguise 
of  a  fisherman's  dress,  were  all  regeirded  as 


JAN  AT  HIS  POST.  171 

positive  proofs  of  some  singular  and  romantic 
adventure.  On  board  "  The  Lapwing  "  Jan  was 
the  central  point  of  every  man's  interest  and 
speculations. 

And  at  this  time,  even  Lord  Lynne  was  a 
little  in  the  dark  regarding  Jan.  Dr.  Balloch 
had  only  spoken  of  him  as  a  young  man  going 
to  ruin  for  want  of  some  friends.  Incidentally 
he  had  alluded  to  his  matrimonial  troubles, 
and,  one  evening  when  they  were  walking,  he 
had  pointed  out  Margaret  Vedder.  She  was 
standing  on  the  Troll  Rock  looking  seaward. 
The  level  rays  of  the  setting  sun  fell  upon  her. 
She  stood,  as  it  were,  in  a  glory  ;  and  Lord 
Lynne  had  been  much  struck  with  her  noble 
figure  and  with  the  set  melancholy  of  her  fine 
face. 

So  he  knew  that  Jan  had  had  trouble  about 
his  wife,  and  also  that  he  had  been  wounded  in 
a  fight ;  and  putting  the  two  things  together  he 
made  a  perfectly  natural  inference.  He  Was 
aware,  also,  that  Margaret  was  Peter  Fae's 
daughter  and  a  probable  heiress.  If  he 
thought  of  Jan's  social  position,  he  doubtless 
considered  that  only  a  Shetland  gentleman 
would  aspire  to  her  hand.  But  he  made  no 


172  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

effort  whatever  to  gain  Jan's  confidence ;  if  he 
chose  to  give  it,  he  would  do  so  at  the  proper 
time,  and  without  it  they  were  very  happy. 
For  Lord  Lynne  had  been  a  great  traveler, 
and  Jan  never  wearied  of  hearing  about  the 
places  he  had  visited.  With  a  map  before  him, 
he  would  follow  every  step  up  and  down 
Europe.  And  across  Asian  seas,  through  Cana- 
dian cities,  and  the  great  plains  of  the  West, 
the  two  men  in  memory  and  imagination  went 
together. 

Nothing  was  said  of  Jan's  future  ;  he  asked 
no  questions,  gave  no  hints,  exhibited  no  anx- 
iety. He  took  his  holiday  in  holiday  spirit, 
and  Lord  Lynne  understood  and  appreciated 
the  unselfishness  and  the  gentlemanly  feeling 
which  dictated  the  apparent  indifference.  At 
Margate  the  yacht  went  into  harbor.  Lord 
Lynne  expected  letters  there,  which  he  said 
would  decide  his  movements  for  the  winter. 
He  was  silent  and  anxious  when  he  landed  ;  he 
was  in  a  mood  of  reckless  but  assumed  indiffer- 
ence when  he  came  on  board  again. 

After  dinner  he  spread  the  large  map  on  the 
saloon  table,  and  said  :  "  Vedder,  what  do  you 
say  to  a  few  months'  cruise  in  the  Mediterra* 


JAN  AT  HIS  POST.  173 

nean  ?  I  am  not  wanted  at  home,  and  I  should 
like  to  show  you  some  of  the  places  we 
have  talked  about.  Suppose  we  touch  at  the 
great  Spanish  ports,  at  Genoa,  Venice,  Naples 
and  Rome,  and  then  break  the  winter  among 
the  Isles  of  Greece  and  the  old  Ionian  cities?*1 

Jan's  face  beamed  with  delight ;  there  was  no 
need  for  him  to  speak. 

"And,"  continued  his  lordship,  "as  I  sleep 
a  great  deal  in  warm  climates,  I  shall  want  a 
good  sailor  aboard.  I  saw  by  the  way  you 
handled  the  yacht  during  that  breeze  in  '  The 
Wash/  that  you  are  one.  Will  you  be  my 
lieutenant  this  winter?  I  will  pay  you  £100  a 
quarter  ;  that  will  keep  you  in  pocket  money/* 

"That  will  be  a  great  deal  of  money  to  me, 
and  I  shall  be  very  glad  to  earn  it  so  pleas- 
antly." 

"  Then  that  settles  matters  for  a  few  months 
— when  we  get  back  it  will  be  time  to  buckle 
to  work.  Heigh-ho  !  Lieutenant,  head  '  The 
Lapwing '  for  the  Bay  of  Biscay,  and  we  will 
set  our  faces  toward  sunshine,  and  cast  care 
and  useless  regret  behind  our  backs." 

At  Gibraltar  Lord  Lynne  evidently  expected 
letters,  but  they  did  not  come.  Every  mail  he 


174  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

was  anxious  and  restless,  every  mail  he  was  dis- 
appointed. At  length  he  seemed  to  relinquish 
hope,  and  '  The  Lapwing '  proceeded  on  her 
voyage.  One  night  they  were  drifting  slowly 
off  the  coast  of  Spain.  The  full  moon  shone 
over  a  tranquil  sea,  and  the  wind  blowing  off 
shore,  filled  the  sails  with  the  perfume  of 
orange  blossoms.  Lord  Lynne  had  sent  that 
day  a  boat  into  Valencia,  hoping  for  letters, 
and  had  been  again  disappointed.  As  he 
walked  the  deck  with  Jan  in  the  moonlight,  he 
said  sadly,  "  I  feel  much  troubled  to-night,  Jan." 

"  Ever  since  we  were  in  Gibraltar  I  have  seen 
that  thou  hast  some  trouble,  my  lord.  And 
I  am  sorry  for  thee ;  my  own  heart  is  aching 
to-night ;  for  that  reason  I  can  feel  for  thy  grief 
too/' 

"  I  wonder  what  trouble  could  come  to  a  man 
hid  away  from  life  in  such  a  quiet  corner  of  the 
world  as  Shetland  ?  " 

"  There  is  no  corner  too  quiet,  or  too  far 
away,  for  a  woman  to  make  sorrow  in  it." 

"  By  every  thing  !     You  are  right,  Jan-" 

There  was  a  few  minutes'  silence,  and  then 
Jan  said :  "  Shall  I  tell  thee  what  trouble  came 
to  me  through  a  woman  in  Shetland  ?  " 


JAN  A  T  HIS  POST.  175 

"  I  would  like  to  hear  about  it." 

Then  Jan  began.  He  spoke  slowly  and  with 
some  hesitation  at  first.  His  youth  was  con- 
nected with  affairs  about  which  the  Shetlanders 
always  spoke  cautiously.  His  father  had  been 
one  of  the  boldest  and  most  successful  of  the 
men  who  carried  on  that  "  French  trade  " 
which  the  English  law  called  smuggling.  He 
had  made  money  easily,  had  spent  it  lavishly, 
and  at  the  last  had  gone  to  the  bottom  with  his 
ship,  rather  than  suffer  her  to  be  taken.  His 
mother  had  not  long  survived  her  husband,  but 
there  had  been  money  enough  left  to  edu- 
cate and  provide  for  Jan  until  he  reached  man- 
hood. 

"  I  was  ten  years  old  when  mother  died/'  he 
continued,  "and  since  then  no  one  has  really 
loved  me  but  Michael  Snorro.  I  will  tell  thee 
how  our  love  began.  One  day  I  was  on  the 
pier  watching  the  loading  of  a  boat.  Snorro 
was  helping  with  her  cargo,  and  the  boys  were 
teasing  him,  because  of  his  clumsy  size  and  ugly 
face.  One  of  them  took  Snorro's  cap  off  his 
head  and  flung  it  into  the  water.  I  was  angry 
at  the  coward,  and  flung  him  after  it,  nor  would 
I  let  him  out  of  the  water  till  he  brought  Snor- 


176  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

ro's  cap  with  him.  I  shall  never  forget  the 
look  Snorro  gave  me  that  hour.  Ever  since  we 
have  been  close  friends.  I  will  tell  thee  now 
how  he  hath  repaid  me  for  that  deed." 

Then  Jan  spoke  of  Margaret's  return  from 
school ;  of  their  meeting  at  one  Fisherman's 
Foy,  and  of  their  wedding  at  the  next.  All  of 
Peter's  kindness  and  subsequent  injustice ;  all 
of  Margaret's  goodness  and  cruelty,  all  of  Snor- 
ro's  affection  and  patience  he  told.  He  made 
nothing  better  nor  worse.  His  whole  life,  as 
he  knew  and  could  understand  it,  he  laid  be- 
fore Lord  Lynne. 

"And  so  thou  sees,"  he  concluded,  "how 
little  to  blame  and  how  much  to  blame  I 
have  been.  I  have  done  wrong  and  I  have 
suffered.  Yes,  I  suffer  yet,  for  I  love  my  wife 
and  she  has  cast  me  off.  Dost  thou  think  I 
can  ever  be  worthy  of  her?" 

"  I  see,  Jan,  that  what  you  said  is  true — 
in  any  corner  of  the  earth  where  women  are, 
they  can  make  men  suffer.  As  to  your  wor- 
thiness, I  know  not.  There  are  some  women 
so  good,  that  only  the  angels  of  heaven  could 
live  with  them.  That  £600  was  a  great  mis- 
take." 


JAN  A  T  HIS  POST.  177 

"I  think  that  now/' 

"Jan,  life  is  strangely  different  and  yet 
strangely  alike.  My  experience  has  not  been 
so  very  far  apart  from  yours.  I  was  induced 
to  marry  when  only  twenty-one  a  lady  who  is 
my  inferior  in  rank,  but  who  is  a  very  rich 
ivoman.  She  is  a  few  years  older  than  I,  but 
;he  is  beautiful,  full  of  generous  impulses,  and 
v^ell  known  for  her  charitable  deeds/* 

"  You  are  surely  fortunate/' 

"  I  am  very  unhappy." 

"  Does  she  not  love  thee  ?  " 

"Alas!  she  loves  me  so  much  that  she  makes 
both  her  own  and  my  life  miserable." 

"  That  is  what  I  do  not  understand/' 

"  Her  love  is  a  great  love,  but  it  is  a  selfish 
love.  She  is  willing  that  I  should  be  happy  in 
her  way,  but  in  no  other.  I  must  give  her  not 
only  my  affection,  but  my  will,  my  tastes,  my 
duties  to  every  other  creature.  My  friends, 
horses,  dogs,  even  this  yacht,  she  regards  as 
enemies ;  she  is  sure  that  every  one  of  them 
takes  the  thought  and  attention  she  ought  to 
have.  And  the  hardest  part  is,  that  her  noble 
side  only  is  seen  by  the  world.  I  alone  suffer 
from  the  fault  that  spoils  all.  Consequently 


178  JAN  VEDDER'S   WIFE. 

the  world  pities  her,  and   looks  upon   me  very 
much  as  the  people  of,  Lerwick  looked  on  you." 

"  And  can  thou  do  nothing  for  thy  own 
side?" 

"  Nothing.  I  am  in  the  case  of  a  very  worthy 
old  Roman  lord  who  desired  to  divorce  his  wife. 
There  was  a  great  outcry.  All  his  friends  were 
amazed.  '  Is  she  not  handsome,  virtuous,  rich, 
amiable?'  they  asked.  'What  hath  she  done 
to  thee?'  The  Roman  husband  pointed  to  his 
sandal.  '  Is  it  not  new,  is  it  not  handsome  and 
well  made  ?  But  none  of  you  can  tell  where  it- 
pinches  me/  That  old  Roman  and  I  are  broth- 
ers. Every  one  praises  '  my  good  wife,  my  rich 
wife,  my  handsome  wife,'  but  for  all  that,  the 
matrimonial  shoe  pinches  me." 

This  confidence  brought  the  two  men  near 
together.  Henceforward  there  was  no  lack  of 
conversation.  While  every  other  subject  fails 
a  domestic  grievance  is  always  new.  It  can  be 
looked  at  in  so  many  ways.  It  has  touched  us 
on  every  side  of  our  nature.  We  are  never 
quite  sure  where  we  have  been  right,  and  where 
wrong.  So  Lord  Lynne  and  Jan  talked  of 
'  My  Lady '  in  Lynnton  Castle,  and  of  Margaret 
Vedder  in  her  Shetland  home,  but  the  conver- 


JAN  A  T  HIS  POST.  179 

sations  were  not  in  the  main  unkind  ones.  Very 
early  in  them  Lynne  told  Jan  how  he  had  once 
seen  his  wife  standing  on  the  Troll  Rock  at  sun. 
set, "  lovely,  and  grand,  and  melancholy,  as  some 
forsaken  goddess  in  her  desolated  shrine." 

They  were  sitting  at  the  time  among  the 
ruins  of  a  temple  to  Pallas.  The  sun  was  set- 
ting over  Lydian  waters,  and  Jan  seemed  to  see 
in  the  amber  rays  a  vision  of  the  tall,  fair 
woman  of  his  love  and  dreams.  She  ruled  him 
yet.  From  the  lonely  islands  of  that  forlorn 
sea  she  called  him.  Not  continents  nor  oceans 
could  sever  the  mystical  tie  between  them.  On 
the  sands  close  by,  some  young  Greek  girls  were 
dancing  to  a  pipe.  They  were  beautiful,  and 
the  dance  was  picturesque,  but  Jan  hardly 
noticed  them.  The  home-love  was  busy  in  his 
heart.  "  Until  death  us  part."  Nothing  is 
more  certain,  in  a  life  of  such  uncertainty. 

Amid  the  loveliest  scenes  of  earth  they  passed 
the  winter  months.  It  was  far  on  in  May  when 
they  touched  Gibraltar  on  their  return.  Let- 
ters for  both  were  waiting  there.  For  Jan  a 
short  one  from  Dr.  Balloch,  and  a  long  one 
from  Michael  Snorro.  He  was  sitting  with 
Snorro's  in  his  hand  when  Lord  Lynne,  bright 


i8o  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

and  cheerful,  came  out  of  his  cabin.  "  I  have 
very  fair  news,  Jan ;  what  has  the  mail  brought 
you  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Seldom  it  comes  for  nothing.  I  have  heard 
that  my  mother-in-law  is  dead.  She  was  ever 
my  friend,  and  I  am  so  much  the  poorer.  Peter 
Fae  too  is  in  trouble ;  he  is  in  trouble  about 
me.  Wilt  thou  believe  that  the  people  of  Ler. 
wick  think  he  may  have " 

"  Murdered  you  ?  " 

"Yes,  just  that." 

"  I  have  often  thought  that  the  suspicion 
would  be  a  natural  one.  Has  he  been  ar- 
rested ?  " 

"  No,  no  ;  but  he  is  in  bad  esteem.  Some 
speak  not  to  him.  The  minister,  though,  he 
stands  by  him/' 

"  That  is  enough.  If  Dr.  Balloch  thought  it 
necessary,  he  would  say  sufficient  to  keep  Peter 
Fae  out  of  danger.  A  little  popular  disapproval 
will  do  kirn  good.  He  will  understand  then 
how  you  felt  when  wife  and  friends  looked 
coldly  on  you,  and  suspicion  whispered  things  to 
injure  you  that  no  one  dared  to  say  openly. 
Let  Peter  suffer  a  little.  I  am  not  sorry  for 
him." 


JAN  A  T  HIS  POST.  181 

"  Once  he  liked  me,  and  was  kind  to  me." 

"Jan!" 

"Yes,  my  friend." 

"  We  are  now  going  straight  to  Margate.  I 
am  promised  office,  and  shall  probably  be  a 
busy  public  man  soon.  It  is  time  also  that  you 
buckled  down  to  your  work.  We  have  had  our 
holiday  and  grown  strong  in  it — every  way 
strong.  What  next  ?  " 

"Thou  speak  first." 

"  Well,  you  see,  Jan,  men  must  work  if  they 
would  be  rich,  or  even  respectable.  What  work 
have  you  thought  of  ?  " 

,  "  Only  of  the  sea.  She  is  my  father  and  my 
mother  and  my  inheritance.  Working  on  land, 
I  am  as  much  out  of  place  as  a  fi«h  out  of 
water." 

"  I  think  you  are  right.  Will  you  join  the 
Merchant  Service,  or  do  you  think  better  of 
the  Royal  Navy  ?  I  have  a  great  deal  of 
influence  with  the  Admiralty  Lords,  and  1  have 
often  wished  I  could  be  a  '  blue  jacket '  my- 
self." 

"  Above  all  things,  I  would  like  the  Royal 
Navy." 

"  Then  you  shall  be  a  *  blue  jacket ; '  that  is 


I #2  JAN  V£DDER*S  WIFE. 

quite  settled  and  well  settled,  I  am  sure.  But 
every  moment  will  take  time,  and  it  will  prob- 
ably be  winter  before  I  can  get  you  a  post  on  any 
squadron  likely  to  see  active  service.  During 
the  interval  I  will  leave  '  The  Lapwing '  in  your 
care,  and  you  must  employ  the  time  in  study- 
ing the  technical  part  of  your  profession.  I 
know  an  old  captain  in  Margate  who  will  teach 
you  all  he  knows,  and  that  is  all  that  any  of 
them  know." 

Jan  was  very  grateful.  The  prospect  was  a 
pleasant  one  and  the  actual  experience  of  it 
more  than  fulfilled  all  his  expectations.  "The 
Lapwing"  was  his  home  and  his  study.  For  he 
soon  discovered  how  ignorant  he  was.  Instruc- 
tion in  naval  warfare  was  not  all  he  needed. 
Very  soon  the  old  captain  was  supplemented 
by  the  schoolmaster.  The  days  were  too  short 
for  all  Jan  wished  to  learn.  He  grudged  the 
'  hours  that  were  spent  in  sleep.  So  busy  was 
he  that  he  never  noticed  the  lapse  of  time,  or, 
if  he  did,  it  was  only  that  he  might  urge  him- 
self to  greater  efforts. 

It  did  not  trouble  him  that  Lord  L^ne 
seldom  wrote,  and  never  came.  His  salary  was 
promptly  paid,  and  Jan  was  one  of  the  kind 


JAN  A  T  HIS  POST.  183 

of  men  whom  good  fortune  loves.  He  did 
not  worry  over  events.  He  did  not  keep 
wondering  what  she  was  going  to  do  for 
him,  or  wish  night  and  day  that  she  would 
make  haste  with  the  next  step  in  his  behalf. 
He  took  gratefully  and  happily  the  good  he 
had,  and  enjoyed  it  to  the  utmost. 

When  a  change  came  it  was  the  first  week  in 
November.  A  lovely  afternoon  had  not 
tempted  Jan  from  his  books.  Suddenly  the 
cabin  door  was  darkened  ;  he  lifted  his  head, 
and  saw  Lord  Lynne  regarding  him  with  a 
face  full  of  pleasure.  He  came  rapidly  for- 
ward and  turned  over  the  volumes  on  the  table 
with  great  interest.  "  I  am  glad  to  see  these 
books,  Jan/*  he  said,  "  Arithmetic,  Geography, 
History,  French — very  good,  indeed  !  And  your 
last  letter  delighted  me.  The  writing  was 
excellent.  Her  Majesty's  officers  ought  to  be 
educated  gentlemen ;  and  you  are  now  one  of 
them." 

Jan  looked  up,  with  eager,  inquiring  face. 

"Yes,  sir;  you  are  now  Lieutenant  Jan  Ved- 
der,  of  Her  Majesty's  Schooner  Retribution. 
You  are  to  sail  for  the  African  coast  within  a 
week.  Jan,  I  congratulate  you  !  " 


1 84  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

Jan  rose  and  put  out  both  hands.  The  action 
was  full  of  feeling.  No  words  could  have  been 
so  eloquent.  It  was  worth  an  hour  of  words, 
and  Lord  Lynne  so  understood  it. 

"  I  called  at  the  mail  as  I  came  through  the 
town,  here  is  a  letter  for  you.  While  you  read 
it  I  will  go  through  the  yacht." 

When  he  returned  Jan  was  walking  anx- 
iously about  with  the  letter  in  his  hand.  "  Has 
bad  news  come  with  the  good,  Jan  ?  " 

"  I  know  not  if  it  be  bad  or  if  it  be  good. 
Peter  Fae  hath  married  again." 

"Do  you  know  the  new  wife?" 

"  Well  I  know  her.  She  was  ever  a  good 
friend  to  me,  but  my  wife  liked  her  not." 

"  Is  she  young  or  old,  pretty  or  otherwise  ?" 

"  Few  women  are  so  handsome,  and  she  has 
not  yet  thirty  years." 

"Then  it  is  likely  Peter  Fae  has  found  a 
master  ?  " 

"That,  too,  is  likely.  Snorro  says  that  he 
hath  settled  on  her  the  house  in  which  he  lives, 
with  much  money  beside.  Perhaps  now  my 
Margaret  will  be  poor.  I  can  not  think  that 
she  will  live  with  Suneva.  What  then  wiJl  she 
do?  I  wish  to  see  her  very  much." 


JAN  A  T  HIS  POST.  185 

"  That  you  can  not  possibly  do,  Lieutenant 
Vedder.  You  will  be  under  orders  in  the 
morning.  To  leave  your  post  now,  would  be 
desertion.  I  do  not  fear  for  your  wife.  She 
knows  very  well  how  to  look  after  her  own 
interests.  The  two  women  in  Peter's  house 
will  be  Greek  against  Greek,  and  your  wife  will 
certainly  win  some  victories/* 

"  I  would  not  have  her  suffer,  my  friend." 

"  She  will  not  suffer.  It  is  likely  I  may  be 
in  Lerwick  next  summer ;  I  will  see  to  that. 
Have  you  saved  any  thing  of  your  salary?" 

"  I  have  spent  very  little  of  it.  I  have  now 
over  ^300." 

"  Then  I  advise  you  to  send  £200  to  Dr. 
Balloch  for  her.  Tell  him  if  help  is  needed  to 
give  it.  He  will  understand  the  wisest  way  in 
which  it  can  be  offered.  If  it  is  not  needed, 
he  can  save  it  toward  that  £600." 

"  I  can  send  £300. " 

"  No,  you  can  not.  Uniforms  must  be 
bought,  and  fees  must  be  paid,  and  there  are 
numerous  other  expenses  to  meet.  Now  you 
must  pack  your  clothes  and  books.  To-morrow 
you  must  be  in  Portsmouth ;  there  '  The  Retrk 
bution '  is  waiting  for  you  and  for  orders.  The 


186  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

orders  may  arrive  at  any  hour,  and  it  is  possible 
you  may  have  to  sail  at  once.'* 

The  next  afternoon  Jan  was  in  Portsmouth. 
It  was  a  wonderful  thing  for  him  to  tread  the 
deck  of  his  own  ship ;  a  handsome,  fast-sailing 
schooner,  specially  built  for  the  African  block- 
ade. She  carried  a  heavy  pivot  gun  and  a 
carronade,  and  had  a  crew  of  fifty  officers  and 
men.  He  could  scarcely  believe  that  he  was 
to  command  her,  even  when  his  officers  saluted 
him.  In  three  days  he  was  to  sail,  and  there 
was  much  to  be  done  in  the  interval.  But  the 
hurry  and  bustle  was  an  advantage  ;  he  had  no 
time  to  feel  the  strangeness  of  his  position  ; 
and  men  soon  get  accustomed  to  honor.  On 
the  third  day  he  filled  his  place  with  the  easy 
nonchalance  of  long  authority. 

It  was  fortunate  for  Jan  that  the  mission  on 
which  he  was  sent  was  one  that  stirred  him  to 
the  very  depths  of  his  nature.  In  the  seclu- 
sion and  ignorance  of  his  life  in  Shetland,  he 
had  heard  nothing  of  the  wrongs  and  horrors 
of  slavery.  It  is  doubtful  if  there  had  ever 
come  into  his  mind,  as  a  distant  idea,  the 
thought  of  a  race  of  men  who  were  as  black  as 
he  was  white.  Therefore  when  Lord  Lynne 


JAN  A  T  HIS  POS7.  187 

explained  to  him  the  cruelty  and  wickedness 
of  the  slave  traffic,  Jan  heard  him  at  first  with 
amazement,  then  with  indignation.  That  pas- 
sionate love  of  freedom  and  that  hatred  of 
injustice,  which  are  at  the  foundation  of  the 
Norse  character,  were  touched  at  every  point. 
The  tears  of  pity,  the  fire  of  vengeance,  were 
in  his  eyes.  To  chase  a  slaver,  to  punish  her 
villainous  owners,  to  liberate  her  captives! 
Jan  took  in  the  whole  grand  duty  at  once. 

"  I  see  you  are  pleased  with  your  prospects, 
Jan.  Many  would  not  be.  The  duty  of  the 
African  blockading  squadron  is  very  hard ;  it  is 
not  a  favorite  station.  That  fact  made  your 
appointment  so  easy." 

"  Only  one  thing  could  make  my  prospects 
brighter." 

"  What  is  that  thing?" 

"  If  Snorro  could  go  with  me !  How  he 
would  rejoice  in  such  work!  He  is  so  strong; 
when  he  is  angry,  he  is  as  strong  as  six  men,  I 
think.  Once  I  saw  him  put  a  sick  fisherman 
behind  his  back,  and  compel  the  boat  crew  to 
give  him  his  share.  Yes,  indeed  !  They  looked 
in  Snorro's  face,  and  did  what  he  said  without 
a  word.  Hq  wou]d  fly  on  these  men-catchers 


1 88  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

like  a  lion.  He  would  stamp  them  under  his 
feet.  It  is  a  war  that  would  make  Snorro's 
heart  glad.  He  would  slay  the  foe  as  he  would 
pour  out  water,  and  for  the  weak  and  suffering 
he  would  lay  down  his  life.  He  would, 
indeed ! " 

Jan  spoke  rapidly,  and  with  enthusiasm. 
Lord  Lynne  looked  at  him  with  admiration,  as 
he  said :  "  It  is  too  late  now  to  send  for  Snorro. 
How  you  do  love  that  man,  Jan !  " 

"  Well,  then,  he  deserves  it.  I  would  be  a 
cur  if  I  loved  him  not.  I  love  thee,  too. 
Thou  saved  me  from  myself ;  thou  hast  given 
to  me  like  a  prince;  but  as  for  Snorro!  He 
gave  me  all  he  had !  Thou  art  not  grieved  ? 
Thou  wilt  not  think  me  ungrateful  for  thy 
goodness?  " 

"  If  you  had  forgotten  Snorro,  Jan,  I  would 
not  have  trusted  you  for  myself.  You  do  right 
to  love  him.  When  the  squadron  is  recalled 
he  must  be  sent  for.  It  is  not  right  to  part 
you  two." 

"  I  will  tell  him  what  thou  says.  It  will 
make  him  happy.  Snorro  is  one  of  those  men 
who  can  wait  patiently." 

So  Jan  wrote  to  Snorro.    He  took  the  largest 


JAN  AT  HIS  POST.  189 

official  paper  he  could  find,  and  he  sealed  the 
letter  with  the  ship's  seal,  sparing  not  the 
sealing-wax  in  its  office.  For  he  knew  well 
what  an  effect  the  imposing  missive  would 
have.  In  the  hurry  of  his  own  affairs  he  could 
think  of  such  small  things,  for  the  sake  of  the 
satisfaction  which  they  would  give  to  his 
simple-minded  friend. 

But  mails  were  long  at  that  time  of  the 
year  in  reaching  Shetland.  Jan  was  far  down 
the  African  coast  when  his  letter  came  to 
Lerwick.  It  was  under  cover  to  Dr.  Balloch, 
and  though  the  day  was  rough  and  snowy  the 
good  minister  found  his  way  to  Peter's  store. 
He  was  always  welcome  there.  Peter  never 
forgot  how  faithfully  he  stood  by  him  when 
the  darkest  suspicions  kept  other  men  away, 
and  Snorro  associated  his  visits  with  news  from 
Jan.  When,  therefore,  the  minister  in  leaving 
said,  "  Snorro  thou  art  strong,  and  Hamish  is 
weak,  come  to-night  and  carry  him  some  peats 
into  the  house,"  Snorro's  face  lighted  up  with 
expectation. 

Undoubtedly  it  was  a  great  night  for  Snorro. 
When  Dr.  Balloch  explained  to  him,  as  Lord 
Lynne  had  explained  to  Jan,  the  noble  neces- 


igo  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

sity  of  the  African  squadron,  his  heart  Lamed 
like  fire.  He  could  almost  have  shouted  aloud 
in  his  pity  and  indignation.  It  seemed  to  him 
a  glorious  thing  that  Jan  had  gone.  Somehow 
his  limited  capacity  failed  to  take  in  more  than 
the  work  to  be  done,  and  that  Jan  was  to  do  it. 
Minor  details  made  no  impression  on  him.  Jan 
to  his  mind  was  the  only  hero.  The  British 
Government,  Wilberforce,  public  opinion,  all 
the  persons  and  events  that  had  led  up  to 
England's  advocacy  of  the  rights  of  humanity, 
all  were  merged  in  Jan. 

When  he  left  Dr.  Balloch  he  felt  as  if  he 
were  walking  upon  air.  On  the  moor,  where 
no  one  could  hear  him,  he  laughed  aloud,  a 
mighty  laugh,  that  said  for  Jan  far  more  than 
he  could  find  words  to  say.  He  heeded  not 
the  wind  and  the  softly  falling  snow ;  had  not 
Jan,  his  Jan,  sailed  away  in  her  Majesty's 
service,  a  deliverer  and  a  conqueror?  Suddenly 
he  felt  a  desire  to  see  something  relating  to 
him.  If  he  went  round  by  Peter's  house, 
perhaps  he  might  see  Margaret  and  the  baby. 
In  the  state  of  exaltation  he  was  in,  all  things 
seemed  easy  and  natural  to  him.  In  fact  the 
slight  resistance  of  the  elements  was  an  uncon 
scions  and  natural  relief. 


JAN  A  T  HIS  POST.  19-1 

Peter's  house  shone  brightly  afar  off.  As  he 
approached  it  he  saw  that  the  sitting-room  was 
in  a  glow  of  fire  and  candle-light.  Before  he 
reached  the  gate  he  heard  the  murmur  of 
voices.  He  had  only  to  stand  still  and  the 
whole  scene  was  before  him.  Peter  sat  in  his 
old  place  on  the  hearthstone.  Around  it  were 
two  of  Suneva's  cousins,  soncy,  jolly  wives, 
with  their  knitting  in  their  hands  and  their 
husbands  by  their  sides.  They  were  in  eager 
and  animated  conversation,  noisy  laughs  and 
ejaculations  could  be  distinctly  heard,  and 
Suneva  herself  was  moving  busily  about,  set- 
ting the  table  for  a  hot  supper.  Her  blue  silk 
dress  and  gold  chain,  and  her  lace  cap  fluttering 
with  white  ribbons,  made  her  a  pleasant  woman 
to  look  at.  It  was  a  happy  household  picture, 
but  Margaret  Vedder  was  not  in  it. 

Snorro  waited  long  in  hopes  of  seeing  her; 
waited  until  the  smoking  goose  and  hot  pota- 
toes, and  boiling  water,  lemons  and  brandy, 
drew  every  one  to  the  white,  glittering  table. 
He  felt  sure  then  that  Margaret  would  join  the 
party,  but  she  did  not.  Was  it  a  slight  to  her? 
That  Margaret  Vedder  personally  should  be 
slighted  affected  him  not,  but  that  Jan's  wifo 


192  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

was  neglected,  that  made  him  angry.  He 
turned  away,  and  in  turning  glanced  upward. 
There  was  a  dim  light  in  a  corner  room  up 
stairs.  He  felt  sure  that  there  Margaret  was 
sitting,  watching  Jan's  boy.  He  loitered  round 
until  he  heard  the  moving  of  chairs  and  the 
bustle  incident  to  the  leave-taking  of  guests. 
No  access  of  light  and  no  movement  in  Mar- 
garet's room  had  taken  place.  She  had  made 
no  sign,  and  no  one  remembered  her.  But 
never  had  Snorro  felt  so  able  to  forgive  her  as 
at  that  hour. 


CHAPTER  X. 

SWEET  HOME. 

"  On  so  nice  a  pivot  turns 

True  wisdom  ;  here  an  inch,  or  there,  we  swerve 
From  the  just  balance  ;  by  too  much  we  sin, 
And  half  our  errors  are  but  truths  unpruned." 

IF  Margaret  were  neglected,  it  was  in  the 
main  her  own  fault ;  or,  at  least,  the  fault  of 
circumstances  which  she  would  not  even  try  to 
control-  Between  her  and  Suneva  there  had 
never  been  peace,  and  she  did  not  even  wish 
that  there  should  be.  When  they  were  scarcely 
six  years  old,  there  was  rivalry  between  them 
as  to  which  was  the  better  and  quicker  knitter. 
During  their  school  days,  this  rivalry  had  found 
many  other  sources  from  which  to  draw 
strength.  When  Margaret  consented  to  go  to 
Edinburgh  to  finish  her  education,  she  had  felt 
that  in  doing  so  she  would  gain  a  distinct 
triumph  over  Suneva  Torr.  When  she  came 
back  with  metropolitan  dresses,  and  sundry 


194  JAN  VEDDER*S  WIFE. 

trophies  in  the  way  of  Poonah  painting  and 
Berlin  wool  ivork,  she  held  herself  above  and 
aloof  from  all  her  old  companions,  and  espe- 
cially Suneva. 

Her  conquest  of  Jan  Vedder,  the  admiration 
and  hope  of  all  the  young  girls  on  the  Island, 
was  really  a  victory  over  Suneva,  to  whom  Jan 
had  paid  particular  attention  before  he  met 
Margaret.  Suneva  had  been  the  bitterest  drop 
in  all  her  humiliation  concerning  her  marriage 
troubles.  In  her  secret  heart  she  believed 
Suneva  had  done  her  best  to  draw  her  old  lover 
from  his  quiet  home  to  the  stir  and  excitement 
of  her  father's  drinking-room.  If  Peter  had 
searched  Shetland  through,  he  could  not  have 
found  a  second  wife  so  thoroughly  offensive  to 
his  daughter. 

And  apart  from  these  personal  grievances, 
there  were  pecuniary  ones  which  touched  Mar- 
garet's keenest  sensibilities.  Peter  Fae's  house 
had  long  been  to  her  a  source  of  pride ;  and, 
considering  all  things,  it  was  admirably 
arranged  and  handsomely  furnished.  In  the 
course  of  events,  she  naturally  expected  that  it 
would  become  her  house — hers  and  her  boy's. 
To  not  only  lose  it  herself,  but  to  have  it  given 


SWEET  HOME.  195 

CO  Suneva  without  reservation,  seemed  to  Mar- 
garet  not  only  a  wrong  but  an  insult.  And  the 
£100  a  year  which  had  been  given  with  it,  was 
also  to  her  mind  a  piece  of  cruel  injustice. 
She  could  not  help  reflecting  that  some  such 
kindness  to  her  at  her  own  wedding  would 
have  satisfied  Jan,  and  perhaps  altered  their 
whole  life.  It  must  be  admitted  that  her 
mortification  in  being  only  a  dependent  in  the 
house  which  she  had  ruled,  and  regarded  as 
her  own,  was  a  natural  and  a  bitter  one. 

At  the  last,  too,  the  change  had  come  upon 
her  with  the  suddenness  of  a  blow  from  behind. 
It  is  true  that  Peter  made  no  secret  of  his 
courtship,  and  equally  true  that  the  gossips  of 
the  town  brought  very  regular  news  of  its 
progress  to  Margaret.  But  she  did  not  believe 
her  father  would  take  a  step  involving  so  much 
to  them  both,  without  speaking  to  her  about 
it.  As  soon  as  he  did  so,  she  had  resolved  to 
ask  him  to  prepare  her  own  home  for  her 
without  delay.  She  had  taken  every  care  of 
her  furniture.  It  was  in  perfect  order,  and  as 
soon  as  the  house  had  been  again  put  into 
cleanly  shape,  she  could  remove  to  it.  The 
thought  of  its  perfect  isolation,  and  of  its 


1 96  JAN  VEDDZR'S  WIFE. 

independence,  began  to  appear  desirable  to  her, 
Day  by  day  she  was  getting  little  articles  ready 
which  she  would  need  for  her  own  housekeeping. 

In  the  meantime  the  summer  with  all  its 
busy  interests  kept  Peter  constantly  at  the 
store.  When  he  was  at  home,  his  mind  was  so 
full  of  "  fish  takes"  and  of  "curing,"  that  Mar- 
garet knew  that  it  would  be  both  imprudent 
and  useless  to  name  her  private  affairs.  Per- 
haps his  extreme  pre-occupation  was  partly 
affected  in  order  to  avoid  the  discussion  of 
unpleasant  matters;  but  if  so,  Margaret  never 
suspected  it.  She  had  many  faults,  but  she 
was  honest  and  truthful  in  all  her  ways,  and  she 
believed  her  father  would  be  equally  so  with 
her.  When  the  fishing  was  over,  Peter  was 
always  a  few  weeks  employed  in  counting  up 
his  expenses  and  his  gains.  October  and  part 
of  November  had  been  from  her  girlhood 
regarded  as  a  critical  time ;  a  time  when  on  no 
account  he  was  to  be  troubled  about  household 
matters.  But  when  November  was  nearly 
over,  then  Margaret  determined  to  open  the 
subject  of  the  reported  marriage  to  him,  if  he 
did  not  take  the  initiative. 

As  it  was  getting  near  this  time,  she  walked 


SWEET  HOME.  197 

over  one  afternoon  to  her  old  home,  in  order  to 
ascertain  its  condition.  Never,  since  she  so 
foolishly  abandoned  it,  had  she  been  near  the 
place.  Its  mournful,  desolate  aspect  shocked 
her.  Peter  had  never  been  able  to  rent  it. 
There  was  an  idea  that  it  belonged  to  Margaret 
and  was  "  unlucky."  The  gate  had  fallen  from 
the  rusted  hinges.  Passing  boys  had  mali- 
ciously broken  the  windows,  and  the  storms  of 
two  winters  had  drifted  through  the  empty 
rooms.  Timber  is  scarce  and  dear  in  Shetland, 
and  all  the  conveniences  for  her  animals  and 
fowls  had  been  gradually  plundered  and  carried 
off.  Margaret  looked  with  dismay  at  the 
place,  and,  as  she  went  through  the  silent 
rooms,  could  not  help  a  low  cry  of  real  heart 
pain.  In  them  it  was  impossible  to  forget  Jan, 
the  gay,  kind-hearted  husband,  who  had  once 
made  all  their  echoes  ring  to  his  voice  and 
tread. 

Never  had  the  sense  of  her  real  widowhood 
seemed  so  strong  and  so  pitiful.  But  in  spite 
of  its  dreariness,  the  house  attracted  her. 
There,  better  than  in  any  other  place,  she  could 
rear  her  son,  and  devote  her  life  to  memories  at 
once  so  bitter  and  so  sweet.  She  determined 


198  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

to  speak  that  very  night,  unless  her  fath.* were 
unusually  cross  or  thoughtful.  Christmas  was 
a  favorite  date  for  weddings,  and  it  was  very 
probable  that  Suneva  would  choose  that  time 
for  her  own.  If  so,  there  would  be  barely  time 
to  prepare  the  old  home. 

She  set  Peter's  tea-table  with  unusual  care ; 
she  made  him  the  cream-cakes  that  he  liked 
so  well,  and  saw  that  every  thing  was  bright  and 
comfortable,  and  in  accord  with  his  peculiar 
fancies.  But  Peter  did  not  come  home  to  tea, 
and  after  waiting  an  hour,  she  put  the  service 
away.  It  had  become  a  very  common  disap- 
pointment. 

Peter  said  something  in  a  general  way  about 
business,  but  Margaret  was  well  aware,  that 
when  he  did  not  come  home  until  ten  o'clock, 
he  had  taken  tea  with  the  Torrs,  and  spent  the 
evening  with  Suneva. 

This  night  she  had  a  very  heavy  heart. 
Three  times  within  the  past  week  Peter  had 
been  late.  Things  were  evidently  coming  to  a 
crisis,  and  she  felt  the  necessity  of  prompt 
movement  in  her  own  interests.  She  put  the 
child  to  sleep,  and  sat  down  to  wait  for  her 
father's  arrival.  About  eight  o'clock  she  heard 


SWEET  HOME.  199 

his  voice  and  step,  and  before  she  could  rise 
and  go  with  a  candle  to  the  door,  Peter  and 
Suneva  entered  together. 

There  was  something  in  their  manner  that 
surprised  her;  the  more  so,  that  Suneva  imme- 
diately began  to  take  off  her  bonnet  and  cloak, 
and  make  herself  quite  at  home.  Margaret 
saw  then  that  she  wore  a  rich  silk  dress  and 
many  gold  ornaments,  and  that  her  father  also 
wore  his  Sunday  suit.  The  truth  flashed  upon 
her  in  a  moment.  There  was  no  need  for  Peter 
to  say — 

"  Suneva  and  I  have  just  been  married,  Mar- 
garet. Suppose  thou  make  us  a  cup  of  tea." 

At  that  hour,  and  under  such  circumstances, 
nothing  could  have  induced  her  to  obey  the 
request.  Never  before  had  she  disobeyed  her 
father,  and  it  gave  her  a  shock  to  do  it,  but  all 
the  same  she  enjoyed  the  sensation.  Make  tea 
for  Suneva !  For  the  woman  who  had  sup- 
planted her  in  her  father's  affection,  and  in  all 
her  rights  !  She  felt  that  she  would  rather  take 
her  child,  and  walk  out  with  it  upon  the  dark 
and  desolate  moor. 

But  she  was  slow  of  speech,  and  in  her  anger 
and  amazement  she  could  find  no  word  to 


aoo  JAN  VENDER'S  WIFE. 

interpret  her  emotion.  One  long,  steady  look 
she  gave  her  father — a  look  which  Peter  never 
forgot — then,  haughtily  as  a  discrowned  queen, 
but  with  a  face  as  white  as  snow,  she  left  the 
room.  Suneva  laughed,  but  it  was  not  an  ill- 
natured  laugh.  "  It  would  have  been  better 
had  we  told  her,  Peter/'  she  said.  "  If  I  had 
been  thy  daughter,  I  should  not  have  liked 
thee  to  bring  home  a  wife  without  a  word 
about  it." 

"  It  will  be  an  ill  day  with  Peter  Fae  when 
he  asks  his  women  what  he  shall  do,  or  how  he 
shall  do  it.  Yes,  indeed !  " 

Suneva  looked  queerly  at  him.  She  did  not 
speak  a  word,  but  her  dancing,  gleaming  eyes 
said  very  plainly  that  such  an  "  ill  day"  might 
be  coming  even  for  Peter  Fae. 

Then  she  set  herself  to  making  the  tea  he 
had  asked  for.  There  were  the  cakes  Margaret 
had  baked,  and  sweets,  and  cold  meat,  and  all 
kinds  of  spirits  at  hand  ;  and  very  soon  Mar- 
garet heard  the  pleasant  clatter  of  china,  and 
the  hum  of  subdued  but  constant  conversation, 
broken  at  intervals  by  Suneva's  shrill  rippling 
laugh.  Margaret  made  up  her  mind  that  hour, 
that  however  short  or  long  her  stay  might  be 


5  WEE  T  HOME.  2O1 

in  Suneva's  house,  she  would  never  again  lift  a 
finger  in  its  ordering. 

In  the  morning  she  remained  in  her  own 
room  until  her  father  had  gone  to  the  store. 
When  she  went  down  stairs,  she  found  the 
servants,  her  servants,  eagerly  waiting  upon 
Suneva,  who  was  examining  her  new  posses- 
sions. As  she  entered  the  room,  Suneva  turned 
with  a  piece  of  the  best  china  in  her  hand,  and 
said,  "  Oh,  it  is  thee  !  Good  morning,  Margaret." 
Then  in  a  moment  Margaret's  dour,  sulky 
temper  dominated  her ;  she  looked  at  Suneva, 
but  answered  her  not  one  word. 

No  two  women  could  have  been  more  unlike 
each  other.  Margaret,  dressed  in  a  plain  black 
gown,  was  white  and  sorrowful.  Suneva,  in  a 
scarlet  merino,  carefully  turned  back  over  a 
short  quilted  petticoat  that  gave  pleasant 
glimpses  of  her  trim  latched  shoes  and  white 
stockings,  had  a  face  and  manner  bright  and 
busy  and  thoroughly  happy.  Margaret's  dumb 
,anger  did  not  seem  to  affect  her.  She  went  on 
with  her  work,  ordering,  cleaning,  rearranging, 
sending  one  servant  here  and  another  there, 
and  took  no  more  notice  of  the  pale,  sullen 
woman  on  the  hearth,  than  if  she  had  not 
existed. 


202  JAN  VEDDER  S  WIFE. 

However,  when  Margaret  brought  the  child 
down  stairs,  she  made  an  effort  at  conciliation. 
"  What  a  beautiful  boy !  "  she  exclaimed. 
"  How  like  poor  Jan  !  What  dost  thou  call 
him  ? "  And  she  flipped  her  fingers,  and 
chirruped  to  the  child,  and  really  longed  to  take 
him  in  her  arms  and  kiss  him. 

But  to  Margaret  the  exclamation  gave  fresh 
pain  and  offense.  "  What  had  Suneva  to  do 
with  Jan  ?  And  what  right  had  she  to  pity 
him,  and  to  say  (  poor  Jan  ! '  She  did  not 
understand  that  very  often  a  clumsy  good 
nature  says  the  very  thing  it  ought  to  avoid. 
So  she  regarded  the  words  as  a  fresh  offense, 
and  drew  her  child  closer  to  her,  as  if  she  were 
afraid  even  it  would  be  taken  from  her. 

It  was  snowing  lightly,  and  the  air  was  moist 
with  a  raw  wind  from  the  north-east.  Yet  Mar- 
garet dressed  herself  and  her  child  to  go  out. 
At  the  door  Suneva  spoke  again.  "  If  thou 
wants  to  go  abroad,  go  ;  but  leave  the  child 
with  me.  I  will  take  care  of  him,  and  it  is 
damp  and  cold,  as  thou  seest." 

She  might  as  well  have  spoken  to  the  wind. 
Margaret  never  delayed  a  moment  for  the 
request ;  and  Suneva  stood  looking  after  her 


S  WEE  T  HOME.  203 

with  a  singular  gleam  of  pity  and  anger  in  her 
eyes.  There  was  also  a  kind  of  admiration  for 
the  tall,  handsome  woman  who  in  her  perfect 
health  and  strength  bore  so  easily  the  burden 
of  her  child.  She  held  him  firmly  on  her  left 
arm,  and  his  little  hand  clasped  her  neck  behind, 
as  with  perfect  grace  she  carried  him,  scarcely 
conscious  of  his  weight,  especially  when  he 
nestled  his  face  against  her  own. 

She  went  directly  to  her  father's  store.  It 
was  nearly  noon  when  she  arrived  there,  and  it 
was  empty.  Only  Snorro  stood  beside  the  great 
peat  fire.  He  saw  Margaret  enter,  and  he 
placed  a  chair  for  her  in  the  warmest  corner. 
Then  he  said,  "  Give  me  little  Jan,  and  I  will 
hold  him  for  thee."  She  put  the  boy  in  his 
arms  and  watched  him  a  moment  as  he  shook 
the  snow  from  his  cap  and  coat ;  then  she  said  : 
"  Tell  my  father  I  want  to  speak  to  him." 

Peter  came  somewhat  reluctantly.  He  knew 
the  conversation  had  to  be  gone  through,  but 
he  felt  as  if  Margaret  had  him  at  a  disadvan- 
tage in  the  store.  Snorro  was  present,  and 
strangers  might  at  any  moment  come  in,  and 
hurry  him  into  an  unwise  concession.  He 
was  angry  at  Margaret,  also,  for  her  behav- 


204  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

ior  on  the  previous  night,  and  it  was  not  in  any 
amiable  mood  he  approached  her. 

"  Father,  wilt  thou  have  my  house  put  in 
order  for  me?  I  want  to  go  back  to  it." 

"Yes,  I  will;  soon." 

"  How  soon,  then?" 

"  I  can  not  be  hurried.  There  is  no  glass  left 
in  it,  and  there  are  many  things  to  repair 
besides.  It  will  take  time  and  money,  a  good 
deal  of  money,  more  than  I  can  well  afford  at 
present.  I  have  had  many  expenses  lately." 

"  Dost  thou  then  mean  that  I  must  live  with 
Suneva  ?  No,  I  will  not  do  that.  I  will  go  into 
the  house  without  windows.  Snorro  will  patch 
up  the  best  ones,  and  board  up  the  others." 

"  Snorro!  Snorro,  indeed  !  When  was  Snorro 
thy  servant?  As  for  Suneva,  she  is  as  good  as 
thou  art.  Am  I  made  of  money  to  keep  two 
houses  going?" 

"  I  will  not  ask  thee  for  a  penny." 

"  Thou  wilt  make  a  martyr  of  thyself,  and  set 
the  town  talking  of  me  and  of  Suneva.  No, 
thou  shalt  not  do  such  a  thing.  Go  home  and 
behave  thyself,  and  no  one  will  say  wrong  to 
thee." 

"  I  will  not  live  with  Suneva.      If  thou  wilt 


SWEET  HOME.  205 

not  make  a  house  habitable  for  me,  then  I  will 
hire  a  man  to  do  it." 

"  Thou  wilt  not  dare.  When  it  seems  right 
to  me,  I  will  do  it.  Wait  thou  my  time." 

"  I  can  not  wait.  So  then  I  will  hire  John 
Hay's  empty  cottage.  It  will  do,  poor  as 
it  is." 

"  If  thou  dost,  I  will  never  speak  to  thee  nor 
to  thine  again.  I  will  not  give  thee  nor  thy 
child  a  shilling,  whether  I  be  living  or  dead." 

"  What  shall  I  do  ?  Oh,  what  shall  I  do?"  And 
Margaret  wrung  her  hands  helplessly,  and  burst 
into  passionate  weeping. 

"  'Do '  ?  Go  home,  and  be  thankful  for  thy 
home.  What  would  thou  do  in  a  Shetland 
hut,  alone,  at  the  beginning  of  winter?  And  I 
will  not  have  thee  come  crying  here.  Mind 
that !  Take  thy  child  and  go  home  ;  go  at 
once." 

"  Thou  might  have  told  me  !  Thou  might ! 
It  was  a  cruel  thing  to  take  me  unawares  ;  at 
a  moment — " 

"  And  if  I  had  told  thee,  what  then  ?  Tears 
and  complaints,  and  endless  wants.  I  had  no 
mind  to  be  tormented  as  thou  tormented  thy 
husband." 


206  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

That  was  a  needlessly  cruel  taunt,  and  Peter 
was  ashamed  of  it  as  soon  as  uttered.  But  all 
the  same  he  turned  away  in  anger,  and  two  men 
coming  in  at  the  moment,  he  went  with  them 
to  the  other  end  of  the  store. 

Snorro  had  held  4i  little  Jan  "  during  the  inter- 
view. The  fresh  air  and  the  heat  had  over- 
powered the  child,  and  he  had  fallen  asleep. 
He  lay  in  Snorro's  arms,  a  beautiful,  innocent 
miniature  of  the  man  he  loved  so  dearly. 
Watching  the  sleeping  face,  he  had  seemed 
unconscious  of  what  passed  between  Peter  and 
his  daughter,  but  in  reality  he  had  heard  every 
word.  When  Peter  turned  away  he  watched 
Margaret  put  on  her  baby's  cap  and  coat,  and 
then  as  she  rose  with  it  folded  in  her  arms,  he 
said,  "  Let  me  see  him  again." 

"  Kiss  him,  Snorro,  for  thou  loved  his  father. " 

He  stooped  and  kissed  the  boy,  and  then 
glanced  into  Margaret's  face.  Her  tears,  her 
pallor,  her  air  of  hopeless  suffering  went  straight 
to  his  heart.  After  all  she  was  Jan's  wife.  He 
felt  a  great  pity  for  her,  and  perhaps  Margaret 
divined  it,  for  she  said  timidly,  "  Snorro,  can 
thou  mend  the  windows  in  the  old  house— the 
house  where  I  lived  with  Jan?" 


SWEET  HOME.  »; 

"Yes,  I  can/' 

"  Wilt  thou  ask  my  father  if  thou  may  do  it  ?  " 

"  I  will  do  it.  Have  thou  patience,  Margaret 
Vedder.  It  would  be  a  sin  if  thou  made  the 
child  suffer." 

"  Dost  thou  think  I  would  ?  Little  does  thou 
know  of  a  mother's  heart." 

"  Snorro !  " 

It  was  Peter  calling,  and  calling  angrily  ; 
but  ere  Snorro  answered  the  summons  he  went 
with  Margaret  to  the  door,  and  as  he  opened  it, 
said,  "  If  I  can  help  thee,  for  Jan's  sake  I  am 
on  thy  side." 

Very  hard  and  bitter  and  cold  was  the  walk 
homeward.  The  snow  fell  thick  and  fast,  and 
she  was  tired  and  faint  when  she  reached  the 
house.  Never  had  its  warmth  and  comfort 
seemed  so  good  to  her.  How  could  she  feel 
kindly  to  the  woman  who  had  robbed  her  and 
her  child  of  their  right  in  it  ?  Every  one  must 
have  noticed  that  when  they  are  in  trouble,  the 
weather  is  usually  their  enemy.  A  very  long 
and  severe  snow-storm  followed  Margaret's 
useless  effort.  She  had  perforce  to  sit  still,  and 
for  "  little  Jail's  "  sake  be  grateful  for  the  warmth 
and  shelter  given  her. 


208  JAN  VEDDER'S   WIFE. 

"Little  Jan"  Snorro  had  unconsciously 
named  the  child.  Several  attempts  had  been 
made  to  do  so,  but  somehow  all  had  hitherto 
failed.  At  first  "  Peter  "  had  been  thought  of  ; 
but  Peter  Fae  had  not  taken  kindly  to  a  Peter 
Vedder,  and  the  name  after  a  few  half-hearted 
utterances  had  been  dropped.  Thora  had 
longed  to  call  him  "  Willie,  "  but  at  her  death 
the  scarcely  recognized  name  was  given  up. 
But  Snorro's  tender,  positive  "little  Jan"  had 
settled  the  matter  in  Margaret's  mind.  Hence- 
forward the  boy  was  to  be  called  by  his  father's 
name,  and  she  cared  not  whether  it  were  liked 
or  not. 

To  Margaret  the  winter  passed  drearily  away. 
She  refused  to  have  any  part  inSuneva's  hospi- 
talities, though  the  "  Fae  House  "  became  dur- 
ing it  as  famous  for  its  gayety,  as  it  had  been  in 
Thora's  time  for  its  quiet  and  seclusion.  Suneva 
had  no  idea  of  being  the  mistress  of  a  shut  up 
house.  She  was  proud  of  her  large  rooms  and 
fine  furniture,  and  anxious  to  exhibit  them. 
Besides  which,  she  was  in  her  element  as  host- 
ess of  the  cozy  tea-party  or  the  merry  dance. 

Fortunately  for  her  peaceful  success,  Peter 
discovered  that  he  had  the  same  taste.  It  had 


S  WEE  T  HOME.  209 

lain  dormant  and  undeveloped  during  his 
struggle  for  wealth,  and  in  the  quiet  content 
of  Thora's  atmosphere  ;  but  every  circumstance 
now  favored  its  growth,  and  he  became  quite 
as  proud  of  his  name  as  a  generous  and  splen- 
did host,  as  he  was  of  his  character  as  a  keen 
and  successful  trader. 

He  was  still  a  handsome  man,  fresh  and 
active,  carrying  his  fifty-eight  years  with  all  the 
dignity  of  conscious  independence  and  assured 
position.  It  was  Suneva's  great  pride  that  she 
had  induced  him  to  wear  the  fine  cloth  and  velvet 
and  linen  suitable  to  his  wealth.  She  flattered 
him  into  many  an  extravagance  ;  she  persuaded 
him  that  no  one  in  the  Islands  could  recite  as 
well,  or  dance  with  more  activity  and  grace. 
Under  her  influence  Peter  renewed  his  youth 
and  enjoyed  it.  Margaret  often  heard  them 
planning  some  entertainment,  and  laughing 
over  it,  with  all  the  zest  of  twenty  years. 

To  her,  their  whole  life  seemed  an  outrage. 
She  could  not  imagine  how  her  father  could 
bear  to  put  aside  so  completely  his  old  habits 
and  memories.  It  wounded  her  to  see  him 
going  off  with  a  joke  and  a  kiss  to  the  store  in 
the  morning  ;  and  hurrying  back  at  night,  as 


L'io  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

eager  as  a  boy-bridegroom  for  the  company  of 
his  handsome  wife  and  her  gay  friends.  It  may 
easily  be  understood  that  even  if  Margaret  had 
countenanced  Suneva's  festivities  by  her  pres- 
ence at  them,  she  would  have  been  only  a  silent 
and  a  reproachful  guest. 

It  is  but  fair  to  say  that  Suneva  gave  to  her 
absence  the  best  and  kindest  excuse.  "  Poor 
Margaret!  "  she  said  pitifully,  "she  weeps  con- 
stantly for  her  husband.  Few  wives  are  as 
faithful/' 

Suneva  had  indeed  taken  Thora's  place  with 
a  full  determination  to  be  just  and  kind  to 
Thora's  daughter.  She  intended,  now  that  for- 
tune had  placed  her  above  her  old  rival,  to 
treat  her  with  respect  and  consideration. 
Suneva  was  capable  of  great  generosities,  and 
if  Margaret  had  had  the  prudence  and  forbear- 
ance to  accept  the  peace  offered,  she  might  have 
won  whatever  she  desired  through  the  influence 
of  her  child,  for  whom  Suneva  conceived  a  very 
strong  attachment. 

But  this  was  just  the  point  which  Margaret 
defended  with  an  almost  insane  jealousy.  She 
saw  that  little  Jan  clung  to  Suneva,  that  he 
liked  to  be  with  her.  that  he  often  cried  in  the 


SWEET  HOME.  *.L 

solitude  of  her  room  to  go  down  stair**,  where 
he  knew  he  would  have  sweetmeats,  and  pet- 
ting, and  company,  and  his  own  way.  If  ever 
she  was  cross  to  the  boy,  it  was  on  this  subject. 
She  would  not  even  be  bribed  by  Suneva'smost 
diplomatic  services  in  his  behalf.  "Let  Jan 
come  where  his  grandfather  is,  Margaret,"  she 
pleaded.  "  It  will  be  for  his  good  ;  I  tell  thee 
it  will.  I  have  already  persuaded  him  that  the 
boy  has  his  eyes,  and  his  figure,  and  when  he 
was  in  a  passion  the  other  night,  and  thy  father 
was  like  to  be  cross  with  him,  I  said,  '  It  is  a 
nice  thing  to  see  Satan  correcting  sin,  for  the 
child  has  thy  own  quick  temper,  Peter/  and  thy 
father  laughed  and  pulled  little  Jan  to  his  side, 
and  gave  him  the  lump  of  sugar  he  wanted." 

"The  boy  is  all  thou  hast  left  me.  Would 
thou  take  him  also  ?  "  Margaret  answered  with 
angry  eyes.  "  His  mother's  company  is  good 
enough  for  him." 

So  all  winter  the  hardly-admitted  strife  went 
on.  Suneva  pitied  the  child.  She  waylaid  him 
and  gave  him  sweetmeats  and  kisses.  She  im- 
agined that  he  daily  grew  more  pale  and  quiet. 
And  Margaret,  suspicious  and  watchful,  dis- 
covered much,  and  imagined  more.  She  was 


212  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

determined  to  go  away  from  Suneva  as  soon  as 
the  spring  opened,  but  she  had  come  to  the 
conclusion  that  she  must  look  after  her  house 
herself,  for  though  Snorro  had  promised  to  make 
it  habitable,  evidently  he  had  been  unable  to 
do  so,  or  he  would  have  contrived  to  let  her 
know. 

One  day  in  the  latter  part  of  April,  all  nature 
suddenly  seemed  to  awake.  The  winter  was 
nearly  over.  Margaret  heard  the  larks  singing  in 
the  clear  sunshine.  Little  Jan  had  fallen  asleep 
and  might  remain  so  for  a  couple  of  hours. 
She  put  on  her  cloak  and  bonnet,  and  went  to 
see  how  far  Snorro  had  been  able  to  keep  his 
word.  Things  were  much  better  than  she  had 
hoped  for.  Nearly  all  of  the  windows  had 
been  reglazed,  the  gate  was  hung,  and  the 
accumulated  drift  of  two  years  in  the  yard 
cleared  away. 

With  lighter  spirits,  and  a  firm  determination 
in  her  heart,  she  walked  swiftly  back  to  her 
child.  When  she  entered  the  door  she  heard 
his  merry  laugh  in  Suneva's  parlor.  He  was 
standing  on  her  knee,  singing  after  her  some 
lines  of  a  fisherman's  "  Casting  Song,"  swaying 
backwards  and  forwards,  first  on  one  foot  and 


SWEET  HOME.  213 

then  on  the  other,  to  the  melody.  Suneva  was 
so  interested  in  the  boy,  that,  for  a  moment, 
she  did  not  notice  the  pale,  angry  woman 
approaching  her.  When  she  did,  her  first 
thought  was  conciliation.  "  I  heard  him  cry- 
ing, Margaret ;  and  as  I  knew  thou  wert  out, 
I  went  for  him.  He  is  a  merry  little  fellow,  he 
hath  kept  me  laughing." 

"Come  here,  Jan!"  In  her  anger,  she 
grasped  the  child's  arm  roughly,  and  he  cried 
out,  and  clung  to  Suneva. 

Then  Margaret's  temper  mastered  her  as  it 
had  never  done  before  in  her  life.  She  struck 
the  child  over  and  over  again,  and,  amid  its 
cries  of  pain  and  fright,  she  said  some  words  to 
Suneva  full  of  bitterness  and  contempt. 

"  Thee  love  thy  child !  "  cried  Suneva  in  & 
passion,  "  not  thou,  indeed  !  Thou  loves  m_ 
earthly  thing  but  thyself.  Every  day  the  pool 
baby  suffers  for  thy  bad  temper — even  as  his 
father  did." 

"  Speak  thou  not  of  his  father — thou,  who 
first  tempted  him  away  from  his  home  and  his 
wife." 

"  When  thou  says  such  a  thing  as  that,  then 
thou  lies ;  I  tempted  him  not.  I  was  sorry  far 


214  JAN  VEDDER' S  WIFE. 

him,  as  was  every  man  and  woman  in  Lerwick. 
Poor  Jan  Vedder  !  " 

"  I  told  thee  not  to  speak  of  my  husband." 

"  Thy  husband  !  "  cried  Suneva  scornfully. 
"  Where  is  he  ?  Thou  may  well  turn  pale. 
Good  for  thee  is  it  that  the  Troll  Rock  hasn't 
a  tongue  !  Thou  cruel  woman  !  I  wonder  at 
myself  that  I  have  borne  with  thee  so  long. 
Thou  ought  to  be  made  to  tell  what  thou  did 
with  Jan  Vedder! " 

"What  art  thou  saying?  What  dost  thou 
mean?  I  will  not  listen  to  thee" — and  she 
lifted  the  weeping  child  in  her  arms,  and  turned 
to  go. 

"  But  at  last  thou  shalt  listen.  I  have  spared 
thee  long  enough.  Where  is  Jan  Vedder? 
Thou  knows  and  thou  only  ;  and  that  is  what 
every  one  says  of  thee.  Is  he  at  the  bottom 
of-  the  Troll  Rock?  And  who  pushed  him 
over  ?  Answer  that,  Margaret  Vedder !  " 

Suneva,  in  her  passion,  almost  shrieked  out 
these  inquiries.  Her  anger  was  so  violent,  that 
it  silenced  her  opponent.  But  no  words  could 
have  interpreted  the  horror  and  anguish  in 
Margaret's  face,  when  she  realized  the  meaning 
of  Suneva's  questions.  The  sudden  storm 


SWEET  HOME.  215 

ended  in  the  hill  which  follows  recrimination. 
Suneva  sat  fuming  and  muttering  to  herself  ; 
Margaret,  in  her  room,  paced  up  and  down,  the 
very  image  of  despairing  shame  and  sorrow. 
When  her  father  returned  she  knew  Suneva 
would  tell  him  all  that  had  transpired.  To  face 
them  both  was  a  trial  beyond  her  strength.  She 
looked  at  her  child  softly  sobbing  on  the  bed 
beside  her,  and  her  heart  melted  at  the  injustice 
she  had  done  him.  But  she  felt  that  she  must 
take  him  away  from  Suneva,  or  he  would  be 
stolen  from  her ;  worse  than  stolen,  he  would 
be  made  to  regard  her  as  a  terror  and  a  tyrant. 

She  heard  the  clatter  of  the  tea-cups  and  the 
hum  of  conversation,  and  knew  that  her  father 
was  at  home.  As  soon  as  he  had  finished  his 
tea,  she  would  probably  be  summoned  to  his 
presence.  It  had  grown  dark  and  a  rain-storm 
was  coining ;  nevertheless  she  dressed  herself 
and  little  Jan,  and  quietly  went  out  of  the 
house.  Peter  and  Suneva  were  discussing  the 
quarrel  over  their  tea;  the  servants  sat  spin- 
ning by  the  kitchen  fire,  doing  the  same.  She 
only  glanced  at  them,  and  then  she  hastened 
toward  the  town  as  fast  as  she  could. 

Snorro  was  sitting  at  the  store-fire,   a  little 


;i6  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

pot  of  tea,  a  barley  cake,  and  a  broiled  herring 
by  his  side.  He  was  thinking  of  Jan,  and  lo  ! 
a  knock  at  the  door — just  such  a  knock  as  Jan 
always  gave.  His  heart  bounded  with  hope  ; 
before  he  thought  of  possibilities  he  had 
opened  it.  Not  Jan,  but  Jan's  wife  and  child, 
and  both  of  them  weeping.  He  said  not  a 
word,  but  he  took  Margaret's  hand  and  led  her 
to  the  fire.  Her  cloak  and  hood  were  dripping 
with  the  rain,  and  he  removed  and  shook  them. 
Then  he  lifted  the  child  in  his  arms  and  gave 
\  im  some  tea,  and  soon  soothed  his  trouble 
a  id  dried  his  tears. 

Margaret  sobbed  and  wept  with  a  passion 
that  alarmed  him.  He  had  thought  at  first 
that  he  would  not  interfere,  but  his  tender 
heart  could  not  long  endure  such  evident  dis- 
tress without  an  effort  to  give  comfort. 

"What  is  the  matter  with  thee,  Margaret 
Vedder?  and  why  art  thou  and  thy  child 
here?" 

"  We  have  nowhere  else  to  go  to-night, 
Snorro."  Then  Margaret  told  him  everything. 

He  listened  in  silence,  making  no  comments, 
asking  no  questions,  until  she  finished  in  another 
burst  of  anguish,  as  she  told  him  of  Suneva's 


SWEET  HOME.  217 

accusation.  Then  he  said  gravely :  "  It  is  a 
shame.  Drink  this  cup  of  tea,  and  then  we  will 
go  to  the  minister.  He  only  can  guide  the 
boat  in  this  storm." 

"  I  can  not  go  there,  Snorro.  I  have  been 
almost  rude  and  indifferent  to  him.  Three 
times  he  has  written  to  me  concerning  my 
duty ;  many  times  he  has  talked  to  me  about 
it.  Now  he  will  say,  '  Thou  hast  reaped  the 
harvest  thou  sowed,  Margaret  Vedder.' ' 

"  He  will  say  no  unkind  word  to  thee.  I 
tell  thee  thou  must  go.  There  is  none  else 
that  can  help  thee.  Go  for  little  Jan's  sake. 
Wrap  the  boy  up  warm.  Come." 

She  was  weeping  and  weary,  but  Snorro  took 
her  to  the  manse,  carrying  little  Jan  under  his 
own  coat.  Margaret  shrank  from  an  interview 
with  Dr.  Balloch,  but  she  had  no  need.  He 
was  not  a  man  to  bruise  the  broken  reed ;  no 
sooner  did  he  cast  his  eyes  upon  the  forlorn 
woman  than  he  understood  something  of  the 
crisis  that  had  brought  her  to  him  for  advice 
and  protection. 

He  took  them  into  his  cheerful  parlor,  and 
sent  their  wet  clothing  to  the  kitchen  to  be 
dried.  Then  he  said  :  "  Snorro,  now  thou  go 


2l8  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

and  help  Hamish  to  make  us  a  good 
It  is  ill  facing  trouble  on  an  empty  stomach. 
And  light  a  fire,  Snorro,  in  the  room  up  stairs ; 
thou  knowest  which  room ;  for  Margaret  and 
her  son  will  have  to  sleep  there.  And  after 
that,  thou  stop  with  Hamish,  for  it  will  be 
better  so/' 

There  were  no  reproofs  now  on  the  good 
doctor's  lips.  He  never  reminded  Margaret 
how  often  he  had  striven  to  win  her  confidence 
and  to  lead  her  to  the  only  source  of  comfort 
for  the  desolate  and  broken-hearted.  First  of 
all,  he  made  her  eat,  and  dry  and  warm  herself ; 
then  he  drew  from  her  the  story  of  her  grief 
and  wrongs. 

"  Thou  must  have  thy  own  home,  Margaret* 
that  is  evident,"  he  said  ;  "  and  as  for  Suneva,  I 
will  see  to  her  in  the  morning.  Thou  art  inno- 
cent of  thy  husband's  death,  I  will  make  her  to 
know  that.  Alas  !  how  many  are  there,  who  if 
they  can  not  wound  upon  proof,  will  upon 
likelihood !  Now  there  is  a  room  ready  for 
thee,  and  thou  must  stay  here,  until  this  matter 
is  settled  for  thee." 

It  seemed  a  very  haven  of  rest  to  Margaret^ 
She  went  to  it  gratefully,  and  very  soon  fell 


SWEET  HOME.  219 

into  that  deep  slumber  which  in  youth  follows 
great  emotions.  When  she  awoke  the  fire  had 
been  re-built,  and  little  Jan's  bread  and  milk 
stood  beside  it.  It  was  a  dark,  dripping  morn 
ing;  the  rain  smote  the  windows  in  suddeu 
gusts,  and  the  wind  wailed  drearily  around  the 
house.  But  in  spite  of  the  depressing  outside 
influences,  her  heart  was  lighter  than  it  had 
been  for  many  a  day.  She  felt  as  those  feel 
"  who  have  escaped ;  "  and  she  dressed  and  fed 
her  child  with  a  grateful  heart. 

When  she  went  down  stairs  she  found  that, 
early  as  it  was,  the  doctor  had  gone  to  her 
father's  house ;  and  she  understood  that  this 
visit  was  made  in  order  to  see  him  where  con- 
versation would  not  be  interrupted  by  the 
entrance  of  buyers  and  sellers. 

Dr.  Balloch  found  Peter  sitting  at  breakfast 
with  Suneva,  in  his  usual  cheerful,  self-com- 
placent mood.  In  fact,  he  knew  nothing  of 
Margaret's  flight  from  his  house.  She  rarely 
left  her  boy  to  join  the  tea-table ;  she  never 
appeared  at  the  early  breakfast.  Her  absence 
was  satisfactory  to  both  parties,  and  had  long- 
ceased  to  call  forth  either  protest  or  remark. 
§o  neither  of  them  were  #\yare  of  the  step  she 


220  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

had  taken,  and  the  minister's  early  visit  did  not 
connect  itself  with  her,  until  he  said  gravely  to 
Peter,"Dost  thou  know  where  thy  daughter  is  ?  " 

"  She  hath  not  left  her  room  yet,  "  answered 
Suneva  ;  "  she  sleeps  late  for  the  child's  sake." 

"  She  hath  left  thy  house,  Peter.  Last  night 
I  gave  her  and  the  child  shelter  from  the* 


Peter  rose  in  a  great  passion  :  "  Then  she  can 
stay  away  from  my  house.  Here  she  comes 
back  no  more." 

"  I  think  that,  too.  It  is  better  she  should 
not  come  back.  But  now  thou  must  see  that 
her  own  home  is  got  ready  for  her,  and  that 
quickly." 

"What  home?" 

"  The  house  thou  gave  her  at  her  marriage." 

"  I  gave  her  no  house.  She  had  the  use  of 
it.  The  title  deeds  never  left  my  hands." 

"  Then  more  shame  to  thee.  Did  thou  not 
boast  to  every  one,  that  thou  had  given  the 
house  and  the  plenishing?  No  title  deeds, 
no  lawyer's  paper,  can  make  the  house  more 
Margaret  Vedder's  than  thy  own  words  have 
done.  Thou  wilt  not  dare  to  break  thy  promise, 
thou,  who  ate  the  Bread  of  Remembrance  only 


SWEET  HOME.  221 

last  Sabbath  Day.  Begin  this  very  hour  to  put 
the  house  in  order,  and  then  put  the  written 
right  to  it  in  her  hands.  Any  hour  thou  may 
be  called  to  give  an  account ;  leave  the  matte,' 
beyond  disputing/' 

"  It  will  take  a  week  to  glaze  and  clean  it.1' 
"  It  is  glazed  and  cleaned.  Michael  Snorro 
brought  the  sashes  one  by  one  to  the  store,  and 
glazed  them,  when  he  had  done  his  work  at 
night.  He  hath  also  mended  the  plaster,  and 
kept  a  fire  in  the  house  to  dry  it ;  and  he  hath 
cleaned  the  yard  and  re-hung  the  gate.  Begin 
thou  at  once  to  move  back  again  the  furniture. 
It  never  ought  to  have  been  removed,  and  I 
told  thee  that  at  the  time.  Thou  knowestalso 
what  promises  thou  made  me,  and  I  will  see 
that  thou  keep  them  every  one,  Peter  Fae. 
Yes,  indeed,  I  will ! " 

"  It  is  too  wet  to  move  furniture." 
"  The  rain  will  be  over  at  the  noon.      Until 
then  thy  men  can  carry  peats  and  groceries,  and 
such  store  of  dried  meats  as  will  be  necessary." 
"  Peter/'  said  Suneva  indignantly,  "  I  counsel 
thee  to  do  nothing  in  a  hurry/' 

Dr.  Balloch  answered  her,  "  I  counsel  thee, 
Mistress   Fae,    to   keep   well    the  door  of  thy 


<!22  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

mouth.  It  is  no  light  thing  to  make  the 
charges  thou  hast  made  against  an  innocent 
woman." 

"  I  asked  her  how  Jan  Vedder  got  his  death  ? 
Let  her  tell  that." 

"  I  might  ask  thee  how  Paul  Glumm  got  his 
death  !  Listen  now,  and  I  will  show  thee  what 
a  great  thing  may  come  from  one  foul  suo- 
picion.  Thou  married  Paul  Glumm,  and  it  is 
well  known  he  and  thee  were  not  always  in 
the  same  mind,  for  thou  loved  company  and  he 
loved  quiet.  Then  Glumm  took  thee  to  the 
Skoolfiord,  where  there  were  none  at  the  station 
but  thee  and  he.  Thou  knowest  how  thou 
rebelled  at  that,  and  how  often  thou  could  be 
found  in  thy  father's  house.  Suddenly  Glumm 
takes  a  sickness,  and  when  a  doctor  sees  him 
there  is  little  hope,  and  after  three  days  he  dies. 
Then  thou  art  back  at  Lerwick  again,  quick 
enough,  and  in  a  few  weeks  thou  hast  plenty  of 
lovers.  Now,  then,  how  easy  to  say,  '  Glumm's 
death  was  a  very  strange  affair ! '  '  Such  a 
strong  young  man  ! '  '  Did  his  wife  know  any 
thing  about  it  ? '  '  Did  she  send  for  a  doctor 
as  soon  as  might  be  ? '  '  Did  she  give  him  the 
medicine  the  doctor  left  ?  '  *  Was  she  not  very 


SWEET  HOME.  22$ 

glad  when  she  was  free  again  ?  '  Mistress  Fae, 
I  say  not  these  things  were  so,  or  were  even 
said,  I  am  only  trying  to  show  thee  how  easy 
it  is  out  of  nothing  at  all  to  make  up  a  very 
suspicious  case.  But  come,  Peter,  there  is  duty 
to  be  done,  and  I  know  that  thou  wilt  do  it. 
And  I  am  in  haste  about  it,  for  it  is  not  easy 
for  Hamish  to  have  a  woman  and  child  at  the 
manse.  Hamish  has  failed  much  lately.*' 
"  Send  the  woman  with  her  child  here/* 
"  No,  for  it  is  easier  to  avoid  quarrels  than  to 
mend  them.  Margaret  shall  stay  at  the  manse 
till  her  own  house  is  ready." 

So  they  went  away  together,  leaving  Suneva 
crying  with  anger ;  partly  because  of  the  min^ 
ister*s  lecture ;  partly  because  she  thought 
Peter  had  not  "  stood  up  for  her  "  as  he  ought 
to  have  done.  As  for  Peter,  though  he  did  not 
think  of  disobeying  the  order  given  him,  yet 
he  resented  the  interference;  and  he  was 
intensely  angry  at  Margaret  for  having  caused 
it.  When  he  arrived  at  the  store,  he  was  made 
more  so  by  Snorro*s  attitude.  He  sat  upon  a 
sailor's  chest  with  his  hands  folded  before  him, 
though  the  nets  were  to  be  examined  and  a 
score  of  things  to  get  for  the  fishers. 


*24  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIF&. 

"  Can  thou  find  nothing  for  thy  lazy  hands 
to  do  ? "  he  asked  scornfully,  "  or  are  they 
weary  of  the  work  thou  hast  been  doing  at 
night  ?  " 

"  My  mind  is  not  to  lift  a  finger  for  thee 
again,  Peter  Fae  ;  and  as  for  what  I  do  at 
night,  that  is  my  own  affair.  I  robbed  thee  not, 
neither  of  time  nor  gear." 

"  From  whence  came  the  glass,  and  the  nails, 
and  the  wood,  and  the  hinges  ?  " 

"  I  bought  them  with  my  own  money.  If 
thou  pays  me  the  outlay  it  will  be  only  just. 
The  work  I  gave  freely  to  the  wife  of  Jan  Ved- 
der." 

"  Then  since  thou  hast  mended  the  house, 
thou  may  carry  back  the  furniture  into  it." 

"  I  will  do  that  freely  also.  Thou  never  ought 
to  have  counseled  its  removal ;  for  that  reason, 
I  blame  thee  for  all  that  followed  it."  Snorro 
then  hailed  a  passing  fisherman,  and  they  lifted 
his  chest  in  order  to  go  away. 

"  What  art  thou  taking  ?  " 

"  My  own  clothes,  and  my  own  books,  and 
whatever  is  my  own.  Nothing  of  thine." 

"But  why?" 

"  For  that  I  will  come  no  more  here/' 


SWEET  HOME.  225 

"Yes,  thou  wilt." 

"  I  will  come  no  more." 

Peter  was  much  troubled.  Angry  as  he  was, 
grief  at  Snorro's  defection  was  deeper  than  any 
other  feeling.  For  nearly  twenty  years  he  had 
relied  on  him.  Besides  the  inconvenience  to 
the  business,  the  loss  of  faith  was  bitter.  But 
he  said  no  more  at  that  time.  When  Margaret 
was  in  her  home,  Snorro  would  be  easier  toman- 
age.  More  as  a  conciliatory  measure  with  him, 
than  as  kindness  to  his  offending  daughter,  he 
said,  "  First  of  all,  however,  take  a  load  of  tea, 
and  sugar  and  flour,  and  such  things  as  will  be 
needed  ;  thou  knowest  them.  Take  what  thou 
wishes,  and  all  thou  wishes  ;  then,  thou  canst 
<iot  say  evil  of  me." 

"  When  did  I  say  evil  of  thee,  only  to  thy 
face?  Michael  Snorro  hath  but  one  tongue. 
It  knows  not  how  to  slander  or  to  lie.  Pay  me 
my  wages,  and  I  will  go,  and  speak  to  thee  no 
more." 

"  Do  what  I  said  and  come  back  to  me  in 
three  days  •;  then  we  will  settle  this  trouble 
between  us;"  saying  which,  Peter  went  into 
his  counting  house,  and  Snorro  went  to  work 
with  all  his  will  and  strength  to  get  Margaret's 
house  ready  for  her. 


226  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

But  though  he  hired  three  men  to  help  him, 
it  was  the  evening  of  the  second  day  before  she 
could  remove  to  it.  It  was  a  different  home- 
coming from  her  previous  one  in  that  dwelling. 
Then  all  had  been  in  exquisitely  spotless  order, 
and  Jan  had  turned  and  kissed  her  at  the  open 
door.  This  night  every  thing  was  in  confusion. 
Snorro  had  carried  all  her  belongings  into  the 
house,  but  they  were  unpacked  and  unarranged. 
Still  he  had  done  a  great  deal.  A  large  fire 
was  burning,  the  kettle  boiling  on  the  hearth, 
and  on  the  little  round  table  before  it  he  had 
put  bread  and  milk  and  such  things  as  would 
be  necessary  for  a  first  meal.  Then,  with  an 
innate  delicacy  he  had  gone  away,  fully  under- 
standing that  at  the  first  Margaret  would  wish 
to  be  quite  alone. 

She  stood  a  minute  and  looked  around. 
Then  she  opened  the  box  in  which  her  china 
and  silver  were  packed.  In  half  an  hour  the 
tea-table  was  spread.  She  even  made  a  kind  of 
festival  of  the  occasion  by  giving  little  Jan  the 
preserved  fruit  he  loved  with  his  bread.  It 
seemed  to  her  as  if  food  had  never  tasted  so 
good  before.  She  was  again  at  her  own  table  ; 
at  her  own  fireside !  Her  own  roof  covered 


SWEET  HOME.  *~1 

her !  There  was  no  one  to  gloom  at  her  or 
make  her  feel  uncomfortable.  Work,  poverty, 
all  things,  now  seemed  possible  and  bearable. 

When  Jan  had  chattered  himself  weary  she 
laid  him  in  his  cot,  and  sat  hour  after  hour  in 
the  dim  light  of  the  glowing  peats,  thinking, 
planning,  praying,  whispering  Jan's  name  to  her 
heart,  feeling  almost  as  if  she  were  in  his  pres- 
ence. When  at  length  she  rose  and  turned  the 
key  in  her  own  house  again,  she  was  as  proud 
and  as  happy  as  a  queen  who  has  just  come 
into  her  kingdom,  and  who  lifts  for  the  first 
time  the  scepter  of  her  authority. 


CHAPTER    XL 

SNORRO   IS   WANTED. 

"  Now  the  great  heart 
Leaps  to  new  action  and  appointed  toil 
With  steady  hope,  sure  faith,  and  sober  joy." 

DURING  the  next  two  years,  Margaret's 
life  appeared  to  be  monotonously  without 
incident.  In  reality  it  deepened  and  broadened 
in  a  manner  but  slightly  indicated  by  the  still- 
ness of  its  surface.  Early  in  the  morning 
following  her  re-occupation  of  her  own  house, 
she  had  two  visitors,  Dr.  Balloch  and  her  old 
servant,  Elga. 

"  Elga's  husband  is  with  the  Greenland  fleet," 
said  the  minister ;  "  she  is  poor  and  lonely,  and 
wants  to  come  back  and  serve  thee." 
"  But  I  can  not  afford  a  servant." 
"  Thou  can  well  afford  it,  take  my  word  for 
that ;  besides,  thou  art  not  used  to  hard  work, 
nor  fit  for  it.     Also,  I   have  something  better 
for  thee  to  do.     When  thy  house  is  in  order, 


SNOXRO  IS  WANTED.  229 

come  to  the  manse  and  see  me,  then  we  will 
talk  of  it." 

So  Elga  quietly  resumed  her  old  duties,  and 
ere  two  weeks  were  gone  the  house  was  almost 
in  its  first  condition.  White  paint  and  soap 
and  water,  bees'-wax  and  turpentine,  needle 
and  thread,  did  wonders.  On  the  evening  of 
the  eleventh  day,  Margaret  and  Elga  went 
from  attic  to  cellar  with  complete  satisfaction. 
Every  thing  was  spotless,  every  thing  was  in 
its  old  place.  Jan's  big  cushioned  chair  again 
stood  on  the  hearth,  and  little  Jan  took  posses- 
sion of  it.  Many  a  night,  weaned  with  play, 
he  cuddled  himself  up  among  its  cushions,  and 
had  there  his  first  sleep.  It  is  easy  to  imagine 
what  Margaret's  thoughts  were  with  such  a 
picture  before  her — tender,  regretful,  loving 
thoughts  most  surely,  for  the  fine  shawl  or 
stocking  she  was  knitting  at  the  time  was 
generally  wet  with  her  tears. 

The  day  after  all  was  in  its  place  and  settled, 
she  went  to  see  Dr.  Balloch.  It  was  in  the 
early  morning  when  every  thing  was  sweet, 
and  cool  and  fresh.  The  blue-bells  and  daisies 
were  at  her  feet,  the  sea  dimpling  and  spark- 
ling  in  the  sunshine,  the  herring-fleet  gathering 


a$o  JAN  VE£>DER*S  WIFE, 

in  the  bay.  Already  the  quays  and  streets 
were  full  of  strangers,  and  many  a  merry 
young  fisherman  with  a  pile  of  nets  flung  over 
his  shoulders  passed  her,  singing  and  whistling 
in  the  fullness  of  his  life  and  hope.  All  of 
them,  in  some  way  or  other,  reminded  her  of 
Jan.  One  carried  his  nets  in  the  same  grace- 
ful, nonchalant  way  ;  another  wore  his  cap  at 
the  same  angle ;  a  third  was  leaning  against  his 
oars,  just  as  she  had  seen  Jan  lean  a  hundred 
times. 

The  minister  sat  at  his  open  door,  looking 
seaward.  His  serene  face  was  full  of  the  peace 
and  light  of  holy  contemplation.  His  right 
hand  was  lovingly  laid  on  the  open  Bible, 
which  occupied  the  small  table  by  his  side. 

"Come  in,  Margaret/'  he  said  pleasantly. 
"  Come  in  ;  is  all  well  with  thee  now?  " 

"  Every  thing  is  well.  The  house  is  in  order 
and  Snorro  hath  promised  to  plant  some  berry 
bushes  in  my  garden ;  he  will  plant  them 
to-day  with  the  flower  seeds  thou  gave  me. 
The  snowdrops  are  in  bloom  already,  and  the 
pansies  show  their  buds  among  the  leaves." 

"  Dost  thou  know  that  Snorro  hath  left  thy 
father?" 


SNOJtAO  IS  WANTED.  23 X 

"  He  told  me  that  he  had  taken  John  Hay's 
cottage,  the  little  stone  one  on  the  hill  above 
my  house,  and  that  in  three  days  he  would  go 
to  the  fishing  with  Matthew  Vale." 

"  Now,  then,  what  wilt  thou  do  with  thy 
time?  Let  me  tell  thee,  time  is  a  very  precious 
gift  of  God  ;  so  precious  that  he  only  gives  it 
to  us  moment  by  moment.  He  would  not 
have  thee  waste  it." 

Margaret  took  from  her  pocket  a  piece  of 
knitting.  It  was  a  shawl  twelve  yards  round, 
yet  of  such  exquisite  texture  that  she  drew  it 
easily  through  a  wedding  ring.  Beautiful  it 
was  as  the  most  beautiful  lace,  and  the  folds  of 
fine  wool  fell  infinitely  softer  than  any  fold  of 
fine  flax  could  do.  It  was  a  marvelous  piece 
of  handiwork,  and  Dr.  Balloch  praised  it 
highly. 

"  I  am  going  to  send  it  to  the  Countess  of 
Zetland,"  she  said.  "  I  have  no  doubt  she  will 
send  me  as  many  orders  as  I  can  fill.  Each 
shawl  is  worth  ,£7,  and  I  can  also  do  much 
coarser  work,  which  I  shall  sell  at  the  Foy." 

"  Would  thou  not  rather  work  for  me  than 
for  the  Countess?  " 

"  Thou  knowest  I  would,  ten  thousand  times 
rather.  But  how  can  I  work  for  thee?" 


232  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

"  What  is  there,  Margaret,  on  the  long  tabb 
under  the  window  ?  *' 

"  There  is  a  large  pile  of  newspapers  and 
magazines  and  books." 

"  That  is  so.  None  of  these  have  I  been 
able  to  read,  because  my  sight  has  failed  me 
very  much  lately.  Yet  I  long  to  know  every 
word  that  is  in  them.  Wilt  thou  be  eyes  to  an 
old  man  who  wishes  thee  only  well,  Margaret  ? 
Come  every  day,  when  the  weather  and  thy 
health  permits,  and  read  to  me  for  two  hours, 
write  my  letters  for  me,  and  do  me  a  message 
now  and  then,  and  I  will  cheerfully  pay  thee 
£50  a  year/' 

"  I  would  gladly  do  all  this  without  money, 
and  think  the  duty  most  honorable." 

"  Nay,  but  I  will  pay  thee,  for  that  will  be 
better  for  thee  and  for  me." 

Now  all  good  work  is  good  for  far  more  than 
appears  upon  its  surface.  The  duties  under- 
taken by  Margaret  grew  insensibly  and  steadily 
in  beneficence  and  importance.  In  the  first 
place,  the  effect  upon  her  own  character  was 
very  great.  It  was  really  two  hours  daily 
study  of  the  finest  kind.  It  was  impossible 
that  the  books  put  into  her  hand  could  be  read 


SArORKO  IS   WANTED.  233 

and  discussed  with  a  man  like  Dr.  Balloch. 
without  mental  enlargement.  Equally  great 
and  good  was  the  moral  effect  of  the  com- 
panionship. Her  pen  became  the  pen  of  a 
ready  writer,  for  the  old  clergyman  kept  up  a 
constant  correspondence  with  his  college  com- 
panions, and  with  various  learned  societies. 

About  three  months  after  this  alliance  began, 
the  doctor  said  one  day,  "  Thou  shalt  not  read 
to  me  this  morning,  for  I  want  thee  to  carry 
some  wine  and  jelly  to  old  Neill  Brock,  and 
when  thou  art  there,  read  to  him.  Here  is  a 
list  of  the  Psalms  and  the  Epistles  that  will  be 
the  best  for  him."  And  Margaret  came  back 
from  her  errand  with  a  solemnly  happy  light 
upon  her  face.  "  It  was  a  blessed  hour,"  she 
said,  "surely  he  is  veiy  near  the  kingdom." 

This  service  once  begun  grew  by  a  very  nat- 
ural course  of  events.  Margaret  delighted  in 
it.  The  sick  loved  her  calm,  gentle  ways.  She 
was  patient  and  silent,  and  yet  sympathetic. 
She  had  that  womanly  taste  which  naturally 
sets  itself  to  make  dainty  dishes  for  those  who 
can  not  eat  coarse  food.  In  a  few  months  the 
sick  all  through  the  parish  felt  the  soothing 
touch  of  her  soft,  cool  hands,  and  became 


234  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

familiar  with  the  tones  of  her  low,  even  voice, 
as  she  read  aloud  the  portions  which  Dr.  Bal- 
loch  usually  selected  for  every  case. 

And  as  there  is  no  service  so  gratefully 
remembered  as  that  given  in  sickness,  Margaret 
Vedder  gradually  acquired  a  very  sincere  popu- 
larity. It  rather  amazed  Peter  to  hear  such 
remarks  as  the  following :  "  Luke  Thorkel  is 
better,  thanks  to  Margaret  Vedder."  "John 
Johnson  can  go  to  the  fishing  with  an  easy  mind 
now,  Margaret  Vedder  is  caring  for  his  sick 
wife."  "The  Widow  Hay  died  last  night. 
She  would  have  died  ere  this,  but  for  Margaret 
Vedder's  care." 

These  outside  duties  made  her  home  duties 
sufficient  to  fill  all  her  time.  She  had  no  hours 
to  spare  for  foolish  repining,  or  morbid  sorrow. 
Little  Jan  must  be  taught  his  letters,  and  his 
clothes  must  be  made.  Her  garden,  poultry 
and  knitting  kept  her  hands  ever  busy,  and 
though  her  work  was  much  of  it  of  that  silent 
kind  which  leads  to  brooding  thought,  she  had 
now  much  of  interest  to  fill  her  mind.  Yet 
still,  and  always,  there  was  the  haunting,  under- 
lying memory  of  Jan's  disappearance  or  death, 
keeping  her  life  hushed  and  silent.  To  no  one 


SWORRO  fS  WANTED.  235 

did  she  speak  of  it,  and  it  seemed  strange  to 
her  that  Dr.  Balloch  visibly  discouraged  any 
allusion  to  it.  Sometimes  she  felt  as  if  she 
must  speak  to  Snorro  about  it,  but  Snorro  kept 
ever  a  little  aloof  from  her.  She  was  not  very 
sure  as  to  his  friendship. 

She  thought  this  a  little  hard,  for  she  had 
given  him  every  opportunity  to  understand  that 
her  own  animosity  was  dead.  She  permitted 
little  Jan  to  spend  nearly  all  his  time  with  him, 
when  he  was  not  engaged  in  fishing,  or  busy  on 
the  quays.  And  Snorro  now  spent  much  of 
his  time  at  home.  His  earnings  during  the 
fishing  season  more  than  sufficed  for  his 
wants.  Every  fine  day  in  winter  he  was  apt 
to  call  for  little  Jan,  and  Margaret  rarely  refused 
him  the  child's  company. 

And  little  Jan  dearly  loved  Snorro,  Snorro 
put  him  in  the  water,  and  taught  him  how  to 
swim  like  a  seal.  Snorro  made  him  a  spear  and 
taught  him  how  to  throw  it.  He  made  him  a 
boat  and  taught  him  how  to  sail  it.  He  got 
him  a  pony  and  taught  him  how  to  ride  it. 
Once  they  found  a  baby  seal  whose  mother  had 
been  shot,  and  the  child  kept  it  at  Snorro's 
house.  There  also  he  had  a  dozen  pet  rabbits, 


236  JAN  TEDDER'S  WIFE. 

and  three  Skye  terriers,  and  a  wild  swan  with  a 
broken  wing,  and  many  other  treasures,  which 
would  not  have  been  so  patiently  tolerated  in 
the  cleanliness  and  order  of  his  own  home. 

So  the  time  went  pleasantly  and  profitably 
by  for  two  years.  Again  the  spring  joy  was 
over  the  land,  and  the  town  busy  with  the 
hope  of  the  fishing  season.  Snorro's  plans 
were  all  made,  and  yet  he  felt  singularly  rest- 
less and  unsettled.  As  he  sat  one  evening 
wondering  at  this  feeling,  he  said  to  himself : 
"  It  is  the  dreams  I  have  had  lately,  or  it  is 
because  I  think  of  Jan  so  much.  Why  does 
he  not  write  ?  Oh,  how  I  long  to  see  him  ! 
Well,  the  day  will  come,  by  God's  leave." 

Just  as  this  thought  crossed  his  mind,  Dr. 
Balloch  stepped  across  his  threshold.  Snorro 
rose  up  with  a  face  of  almost  painful  anxiety. 
He  always  associated  a  visit  from  the  doctor 
with  news  from  Jan.  He  could  scarcely  articu- 
late the  inquiry,  "  Hast  thou  any  news?" 

"  Great  news  for  thee,  Snorro.  Jan  is  com- 
ing home  from  Africa.  He  is  broken  down 
with  the  fever.  He  wants  thee.  Thou  must 
go  to  him  at  once,  for  he  hath  done  grand 
work,  and  proved  himself  a  hero,  worthy  even 
of  thv  triif;  oreat  love 


SATORRO  IS  WANTED.  237 

"  I  am  ready — I  have  been  waiting  for  him 
to  call  me.  I  will  go  this  hour." 

*'  Be  patient.  Every  -thing  must  be  done 
wisely  and  in  order.  The  first  thing  is  supper. 
I  came  away  without  mine,  so  now  I  will  eat 
with  thee.  Get  the  tea  ready  ;  then  I  will  tell 
thee  all  I  know." 

As  Snorro  moved  about,  the  doctor  looked 
at  his  home.  Every  piece  of  furniture  in  it 
vas  of  Snorro's  own  manufacture.  His  bed 
was  a  sailor's  bunk  against  the  wall,  made  soft 
with  sheep-fleeces  and  covered  with  seal-skins. 
A  chair  of  woven  rushes  for  little  Jan,  a  couple 
of  stools  and  a  table  made  from  old  packing 
boxes,  and  a  big  hearth-rug  of  sheep-skins,  that 
was  all.  But  over  the  fireplace  hung  the 
pictured  Christ,  and  some  rude  shelves  were 
filled  with  the  books  Jan  had  brought  him. 
On  the  walls,  also,  were  harpoons  and  seal 
spears,  a  fowling-piece,  queer  ribbons  and 
branches  of  sea  weeds,  curiosities  given  him  by 
sailors  from  all  countries,  stuffed  birds  and  fish 
skeletons,  and  a  score  of  other  things,  which 
enabled  the  doctor  to  understand  what  a  house 
of  enchantment  it  must  be  to  a  boy  like  little 
Jan. 


238  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

In  a  few  minutes  the  table  was  set,  and 
Snorro  had  poured  out  the  minister's  tea,  and 
put  before  him  a  piece  of  bread  and  a  slice  of 
broiled  mutton.  As  for  himself  he  could  not 
eat,  he  only  looked  at  the  doctor  with  eyes  of 
pathetic  anxiety. 

"  Snorro,  dost  thou  understand  that  to  go  to 
Jan  now  is  to  leave,  forever  perhaps,  thy  native 
land  ?  " 

"  Wherever  Jan  is,  that  land  is  best  of  all." 

"  He  will  be  i**  ^ortsmouth  ere  thou  arrive 
there.  First,  thou  must  sail  to  Wick  ;  there, 
thou  wilt  get  a  boat  to  Leith,  and  at  Leithtake 
one  for  London.  What  wilt  thou  do  in 
London?  " 

"  Well,  then,  I  have  a  tongue  in  my  head ;  I 
will  ask  my  way  to  Portsmouth.  When  I  am 
there  it  will  be  easy  to  find  Jan's  ship,  and  then 
Jan.  What  help  can  thou  give  me  in  the 
matter?" 

'"  That  I  will  look  to.  Jan  hath  sent  thee 
£100." 

Snorro's  face  brightened  like  sunrise.  "I 
am  glad  that  he  thought  of  me ;  but  I  will  not 
touch  the  money.  I  have  already  more  than 
£20.  Thou  shalt  keep  the  ^100  for  little 

T  » 

Ian. 


SNOKXO  IS  WANTED.  239 

"  Snorro,  he  hath  also  sent  the  £600  he  took 
from  his  wife,  that  and  the  interest/' 

"  But  how?  How  could  he  do  that  already?  " 

"  He  has  won  it  from  the  men  who  coin  life 
into  gold  ;  it  is  mostly  prize  money/' 

"  Good  luck  to  Jan's  hands  !  That  is  much 
to  my  mind." 

"  I  will  tell  thee  one  instance,  and  that  will 
make  thee  understand  it  better.  Thou  must 
know  that  it  is  not -a  very  easy  matter  to  block- 
ade over  three  thousand  miles  of  African  coast, 
especially  as  the  slave  ships  are  very  swift,  and 
buoyant.  Indeed  the  Spanish  and  Portuguese 
make  theirs  of  very  small  timbers  and  beams 
which  they  screw  together.  When  chased  the 
screws  are  loosened,  and  this  process  gives  the 
vessel  amazing  play.  Their  sails  are  low,  and 
bent  broad.  Jan  tells  me  that  the  fore-yard  of 
a  brig  of  one  hundred  and  forty  tons,  taken  by 
'  The  Retribution  '  was  seventy-six  feet  long, 
and  her  ropes  so  beautifully  racked  aloft, 
that  after  a  cannonade  of  sixty  shot,  in 
which  upward  of  fifty  took  effect,  not  one  sail 
was  lowered.  Now  thou  must  perceive  that  a 
chase  in  the  open  sea  would  mostly  be  in  favor 
of  vessels  built  so  carefully  for  escape,*' 


340  JAN  VEDDER^S  WIFE. 

"  Why,  then,  do  not  the  Government  build 
the  same  kind  of  vessels?" 

"  That  is  another  matter.  I  will  go  into  no 
guesses  about  it.  But  they  do  not  build  them, 
and  therefore  captures  are  mostly  made  by  the 
boats  which  are  sent  up  the  rivers  to  lie  in  wait 
for  the  slavers  putting  out  to  sea.  Sometimes 
these  boats  are  away  for  days,  sometimes  even 
for  weeks  ;  and  an  African  river  is  a  dreadful 
place  for  British  sailors,  Snorro  :  the  night  air 
is  loaded  with  fever,  the  days  are  terrible  with 
a  scorching  sun." 

"  I  can  believe  that ;  but  what  of  Jan  ?  " 

"  One  morning  Jan,  with  a  four-oared  gig, 
chased  a  slave  brig.  They  had  been  at  the  river 
mouth  all  night  watching  for  her.  Thou  knows, 
Snorro,  what  a  fine  shot  our  Jan  is.  When  she 
came  in  sight  he  picked  off  five  of  her  crew,  and 
compelled  her  to  run  on  shore  to  avoid  being 
boarded.  Then  her  crew  abandoned  her,  in 
order  to  save  their  own  lives,  and  '  The  Retribu- 
tion '  hove  her  off.  She  proved  to  be  a  vessel  ot 
two  hundred  tons,  and  she  carried  one  thousand 
slaves.  She  was  taken  as  a  prize  into  Sierra 
Leone,  and  sold,  and  then  Jan  got  his  share  of 
her." 


SNOKRO  IS  WANTE&.  241 

"  But  why  did  not  the  slavers  fight  ?  " 

"  Bad  men  are  not  always  brave  men ;  and 
sometimes  they  fly  when  no  man  pursues  them. 
Portuguese'slavers  are  proverbial  cowards,  yet 
sometimes  Jan  did  have  a  hard  fight  with  the 
villains." 

"  I  am  right  glad  of  that." 

"  About  a  year  ago,  he  heard  of  a  brigantine 
of  great  size  and  speed  lying  in  the  old  Calabar 
river  with  a  cargo  of  slaves  destined  for  Cuba. 
She  carried  five  eighteen-pounder  guns,  and  a 
crew  of  eighty  men  ;  and  her  captain  had  vowed 
vengeance  upon  '  The  Retribution  '  and  upon 
Jan,  for  the  slavers  he  had  already  taken.  Jan 
went  down  to  the  old  Calabar,  but  he  could  not 
enter  it,  so  he  kept  out  of  sight,  waiting  for  the 
slaver  to  put  to  sea. 

"  At  length  she  was  seen  coming  down  the 
river  under  all  sail.  Then  '  The  Retribution  * 
lowered  her  canvas  in  order  to  keep  out  of  sight 
as  long  as  possible.  When  she  hoisted  it  again, 
the  slaver  in  spite  of  her  boasts  endeavored  to 
escape,  and  then  Jan,  setting  all  the  canvas  his 
schooner  could  carry,  stood  after  her  in  chase. 
The  slaver  was  the  faster  of  the  two,  and  Jan 
feared  he  would  lose  her  ;  but  fortunately  a  calm 


242  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

came  on  and  both  vessels  got  out  their  sweeps. 
Jan's  vessel,  being  the  smaller,  had  now  the 
advantage,  and  his  men  sent  her  flying  through 
the  water. 

<•  All  night  they  kept  up  the  chase,  and  the 
next  morning  Jan  got  within  range." 

"Oh,"  cried  Snorro,  "if  I  had  only  been 
there  !  Why  did  no  one  tell  me  there  was  such 
work  for  strong  men  to  do  ?  " 

"  Now  I  will  tell  thee  a  grand  thing  that  our 
Jan  did.  Though  the  slaver  was  cutting  his 
rigging  to  pieces  with  her  shot,  Jan  would  not 
fire  till  he  was  close  enough  to  aim  only  at  her 
decks.  Why,  Snorro  ?  Because  below  her 
decks  there  was  packed  in  helpless  misery  five 
hundred  black  men,  besides  many  women  and 
little  children." 

"  That  was  like  Jan.  He  has  a  good 
heart." 

"  But  when  he  was  close  enough,  he  loaded  his 
guns  with  grape,  and  ordered  two  men  to  be 
ready  to  lash  the  slaver  to  'The  Retribution/ 
the  moment  they  touched.  Under  cover  of  the 
smoke,  Jan  and  ten  men  boarded  the  slaver,  but 
unfortunately,  the  force  of  the  collision  drove 
*  The  Retribution  '  off,  and  Jan  and  his  little 


SNORRO  IS  WANTED.  243 

party  found  themselves  opposed  to  the  eighty 
villains  who  formed  the  slaver's  crew. 

"  For  a  moment  it  seemed  as  if  they  must  be 
overpowered,  but  a  gallant  little  midshipman, 
only  fourteen  years  old,  Snorro,  think  of  that, 
gave  an  instant  order  to  get  out  the  sweeps, 
and  almost  immediately  'The  Retribution/  was 
alongside,  and  securely  lashed  to  her  enemy. 
Then  calling  on  the  sailors  to  follow  him  the 
brave  little  lad  boarded  her,  and  a  desperate 
hand  to  hand  fight  followed.  After  fifteen 
Spaniards  had  been  killed  and  near  forty 
wounded,  the  rest  leaped  below  and  cried  for 
quarter." 

"  Snorro  would  have  given  them  just  ten  min- 
utes to  say  a  prayer,  no  more.  It  is  a  sin  to  be 
merciful  to  the  wicked,  it  is  that ;  and  the  kind- 
ness done  to  them  is  unblessed,  and  brings  forth 
sin  and  trouble.  I  have  seen  it." 

"  What  thinkest  thou  ?  When  Jan  flung  open 
the  hatches  under  which  the  poor  slaves  were 
fastened,  sixty  were  dead,  one  hundred  and 
twenty  dying.  During  the  twenty-eight  hours* 
chase  and  fight  in  that  terrible  climate  they  had 
not  been  given  a  drop  of  water,  and  the  air  was 
putrid  and  hot  as  an  oven.  Most  of  them  had 


244  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

to  be  carried  out  in  the  arms  of  Jan's  sailors. 
There  were  seven  babies  in  this  hell,  and  thirty- 
three  children  between  the  ages  of  two  years 
and  seven.  Many  more  died  before  Jan  could 
reach  Sierra  Leone  with  them.  This  is  the  work 
Jan  has  been  doing,  Snorro ;  almost  I  wish  I 
was  a  young  man  again,  and  had  been  with 
him." 

The  doctor's  eyes  were  full ;  Snorro's  head 
was  in  his  hands  upon  the  table.  When  the 
doctor  ceased,  he  stood  up  quivering  with 
anger,  and  said,  "  If  God  would  please  Michael 
Snorro,  he  would  send  him  to  chase  and  fight 
such  devils.  He  would  give  them  the  measure 
they  gave  to  others,  little  air  and  less  water, 
and  a  rope's  end  to  finish  them.  That  would 
be  good  enough  for  them;  it  would  that." 

"Well,  then,  thou  wilt  go  to  Jan?" 

"  I  must  go  to-morrow.  How  can  I  wait 
longer?  Is  there  a  mail  boat  in  the  harbor?" 

"  It  was  Lord  Lynne  brought  me  the  news 
and  the  money.  He  will  carry  thee  as  far  as 
Wick.  The  tide  serves  at  five  o'clock  to-mor 
row  morning,  can  thou  be  ready  ?  " 

"  Ay,  surely.  Great  joy  hath  come  to  me, 
but  I  can  be  ready  to  meet  it." 


IS  WANTED.  245 

k<  Lean  on  me  in  this  matter  as  much  as  thou 
likest  ;  what  is  there  I  can  do  for  thee?  " 

"  Wilt  thou  care  for  what  I  have  in  my  house, 
especially  the  picture? 

"  I  will  do  that." 

"  Then  I  have  but  to  see  Margaret  Vedder 
and  little  Jan.  I  will  be  on  'The  Lapwing/  ere 
she  lift  her  anchor.  God  bless  thee  for  all  the 
good  words  thou  hast  said  to  me!  " 

"  Snorro  !  " 

"  What  then  ?  " 

"  When  thou  sees  Jan,  say  what  will  make 
peace  between  him  and  Margaret.'* 

Snorro's  brow  clouded.  "  I  like  not  to 
meddle  in  the  matter.  What  must  be  is  sure 
to  happen,  whether  I  speak  or  speak  not." 

"  But  mind  this — it  will  be  thy  duty  to  speak 
well  of  Margaret  Vedder.  The  whole  town  do 
that  now." 

"  She  was  ever  a  good  woman  some  way. 
There  is  not  now  a  name  too  good  for  her.  It 
hath  become  the  fashion  to  praise  Jan  Vedder's 
wife,  and  also  to  pity  her.  If  thou  heard  the 
talk,  thou  would  think  that  Jan  was  wholly  to 
blame.  For  all  that,  I  do  not  think  she  is 
worthy  of  Jan.  Why  does  she  not  talk  to  her 


246  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

son  of  his  father  ?  Who  ever  saw  her  weep  at 
Jan's  name  ?  I  had  liked  her  better  if  she  had 
wept  more/' 

"  It  is  little  men  know  of  women ;  their 
smiles  and  their  tears  alike  are  seldom  what 
they  seem.  I  think  Margaret  loves  her  husband 
and  mourns  his  loss  sincerely ;  but  she  is  not  a 
woman  to  go  into  the  market-place  to  weep. 
Do  what  is  right  and  just  to  her,  I  counsel 
thee  to  do  that.  Now  I  will  say  '  Farewell, 
brave  Snorro.'  We  may  not  meet  again,  for  I 
am  growing  old." 

"  We  shall  anchor  in  the  same  harbor  at  last. 
If  thou  go  first,  whatever  sea  I  am  on,  speak 
me  on  thy  way,  if  thou  can  do  so.  ' 

"  Perhaps  so.  Who  can  tell  ?  Farewell, 
mate." 

"Farewell." 

Snorro  watched  him  across  the  moor,  and 
then  going  to  a  locked  box,  he  took  out  of  it  a 
bundle  in  a  spotted  blue  handkerchief.  He 
untied  it,  and  for  a  moment  looked  over  the 
contents.  They  were  a  bracelet  set  with  sap- 
phires, a  ring  to  match  it,  a  gold  brooch,  an 
amber  comb  and  necklace,  a  gold  locket  on  a 
chain  of  singular  beauty,  a  few  ribbons  and  lace 


SNOXXO  IS  WANTED.  247 

collars,  and  a  baby  coral  set  with  silver  bells; 
the  latter  had  been  in  Jan's  pocket  when  he 
was  shipwrecked,  and  it  was  bruised  and 
tarnished.  The  sight  of  it  made  Snorro's 
eyes  fill,  and  he  hastily  knotted  the  whole  of 
the  trinkets  together  and  went  down  to  Mar- 
garet's home. 

It  was  near  nine  o'clock  and  Margaret  was 
tired  and  not  very  glad  to  see  him  coming,  for 
she  feared  his  voice  would  awake  little  Jan  who 
was  sleeping  in  his  father's  chair.  Rather 
wearily  she  said,  "  What  is  the  matter,  Snorro? 
Is  any  one  sick  ?  Speak  low,  for  little  Jan  is 
asleep,  and  he  has  been  very  tiresome  to-night." 

"  Nothing  much  is  the  matter,  to  thee.  As 
for  me,  I  am  going  away  in  the  morning  to  the 
mainland.  I  may  not  be  back  very  soon,  and 
I  want  to  kiss  Jan,  and  to  give  thee  some  things 
which  belong  to  thee,  if  thou  cares  for  them." 

"  What  hast  thou  of  mine  ?  " 

"  Wilt  thou  look  then  ?  They  are  in  the 
handkerchief." 

He  watched  her  keenly,  perhaps  a  little 
hardly,  as  she  untied  the  knot.  He  watched 
the  faint  rose-color  deepen  to  scarlet  on  her 
face ;  he  saw  how  her  hands  trembled,  as  she 


248  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

laid  one  by  one  the  jewels  on  the  table,  and 
thoughtfully  fingered  the  lace  yellow  with 
neglect.  But  there  were  no  tears  in  her 
dropped  eyes,  and  she  could  scarcely  have  been 
more  deliberate  in  her  examination,  if  she  had 
been  appraising  their  value.  And  yet,  her  heart 
was  burning  and  beating  until  she  found  it 
impossible  to  speak. 

Snorro's  anger  gathered  fast.  His  own  feel- 
ings were  in  such  a  state  of  excitement,  that 
they  made  him  unjust  to  a  type  of  emotion 
unfamiliar  to  him. 

"Well  then,"  he  asked,  sharply,  "  dost  thou 
want  them  or  not  ?  " 

"Jan  bought  them  for  me?" 

"  Yes,  he  bought  them,  and  thou  sent  them 
back  to  him.  If  thou  had  sent  me  one  back, 
I  had  never  bought  thee  another.  But  Jan 
Vedder  was  not  like  other  men." 

"We  will  not  talk  of  Jan,  thee  and  me. 
What  did  thou  bring  these  to-night  for?" 

"  I  told  thee  I  was  going  to  Wick,  and  it 
would  not  be  safe  to  leave  them,  nor  yet  to 
take  them  with  me.  I  was  so  foolish,  also,  as 
to  think  that  thou  would  now  prize  them  for 
Jan's  sake,  but  I  see  thou  art  the  same  woman 


SNORRO  IS  WANTED.  24$ 

yet.  Give  them  to  me,  I  will  take  them  to  the 
minister." 

"  Leave  them  here.     I  will  keep  them  safely." 

"  The  rattle  was  bought  for  little  Jan.  It 
was  in  his  father's  pocket  when  he  was  ship- 
wrecked." 

She  stood  with  it  in  her  hand,  gazing  down 
upon  the  tarnished  bells,  and  answered  not  a 
word.  Snorro  looked  at  her  angrily,  and  then 
stooped  down,  and  softly  kissed  the  sleeping 
child. 

"  Good    /,  Margaret  Vedder  !  " 

She  had  lifted  the  locket  in  the  interval,  and 
was  mechanically  passing  her  fingers  along  the 
chain.  "  It  is  the  very  pattern  I  wished  for,'* 
she  whispered  to  her  heart,  "  I  remember  draw- 
ing it  for  him."  She  did  not  hear  Snorro's 
"  good  by,"  and  he  stood  watching  her  curiously 
a  moment. 

"  I  said  'good-by,'  Margaret  Vedder." 

"  Good-by,"  she  answered  mechanically.  Her 
whole  soul  was  moved.  She  was  in  a  maze  of 
tender,  troubled  thoughts,  but  Snorro  perceived 
nothing  but  her  apparent  interest  in  the  jewels. 
He  could  not  forget  his  last  sight  of  her  stand- 
ing,  so  apparently  calm,  with  her  eyes  fixed 


250  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

upon  the  locket  and  chain  that  dangled  from 
her  white  hand.  "  She  was  wondering  how 
much  they  cost  Jan,"  he  thought  bitterly ; 
u  what  a  cold,  cruel  woman  she  is! " 

That  she  had  not  asked  him  about  his  own 
affairs,  why  he  left  so  hurriedly,  how  he  was 
going,  for  what  purpose,  how  long  he  was  to  be 
away,  was  a  part  of  her  supreme  selfishness, 
Snorro  thought.  He  could  no  longer  come 
into  her  life,  and  so  she  cared  nothing  about 
him.  He  wished  Dr.  Balloch  could  have  seen 
her  as  he  did,  with  poor  Jan's  love-gifts  in  her 
hands.  With  his  heart  all  aflame  on  JanV 
noble  deeds,  and  his  imagination  almost  deify- 
ing the  man,  the  man  he  loved  so  entirely, 
Margaret's  behavior  was  not  only  very  much 
misunderstood  by  Snorro,  it  was  severely  and 
unjustly  condemned. 

"What  did  God  make  women  for?"  he 
asked  angrily,  as  he  strode  back  over  the  moor. 
"  I  hope  Jan  has  forgotten  her,  for  it  is  little 
she  thinks  of  him." 

On  reaching  his  home  again  he  dressed  him- 
self in  his  best  clothes,  for  he  could  not  sleep. 
He  walked  up  and  down  the  old  town,  and 
over  the  quays,  and  stood  a  five  minutes  before 


SNORKO  IS  WANTED.  251 

Peter  Fae's  store,  and  so  beguiled  the  hours 
until  he  could  go  on  board  "  The  Lapwing." 

At  five  o'clock  he  saw  Lord  Lynne  come 
aboard,  and  the  anchor  was  raised.  Snorro 
lifted  his  cap,  and  said,  "  Good  morning,  Lord 
Lynne ; "  and  my  lord  answered  cheerily, 
*'  Good  morning,  Snorro.  With  this  wind  we 
shall  make  a  quick  passage  to  Wick." 


CHAPTER  XII. 

^NORRO   AND   JAN. 

'*  And  yet  when  all  is  thought  and  said, 
The  heart  still  overrules  the  head  ; 
Still  what  we  hope,  we  must  believe, 
And  what  is  given  us  receive." 


had  indeed  very  much  misjudged 
Margaret.  During  her  interview  with  him 
she  had  been  absorbed  in  one  effort,  that  of  pre- 
serving her  self-control  while  he  was  present. 
As  soon  as  he  had  gone,  she  fled  to  her  own 
room,  and  locking  the  door,  she  fell  upon  her 
knees.  Jan's  last  love-gifts  lay  on  the  bed 
before  her,  and  she  bent  her  head  over  them, 
covering  them  with  tears  and  kisses. 

"  Oh,  Jan  !  Oh,  my  darling  !  "  she  whispered 
to  the  deaf  and  dumb  emblems  of  his  affection. 
"  Oh,  if  thou  could  come  back  to  me  again  ! 
Never  more  would  I  grieve  thee,  or  frown  on 
thee  !  Never  should  thy  wishes  be  unattended 
to,  or  thy  pleasure  neglected  !  No  one  on  earth, 


SNORKO  AND  JAN.  253 

no  one  should  speak  evil  of  thee  to  me  !  I 
would  stand  by  thee  as  I  promised  until  death  ! 
Oh,  miserable,  unworthy  wife  that  I  have  been! 
What  shall  I  do?  If  now  thou  knew  at  last 
how  dearly  Margaret  loves  thee,  and  how  bit- 
terly she  repents  her  blindness  and  her 
cruelty!  " 

So  she  mourned  in  half-articulate  sobbing 
words,  until  little  Jan  awoke  and  called  her. 
Then  she  laid  him  in  her  own  bed  and  sat  down 
beside  him ;  quiet,  but  full  of  vague,  drifting 
thoughts  that  she  could  hardly  catch,  but  which 
she  resolutely  bent  her  mind  to  examine.  Why 
had  Snorro  kept  these  things  so  long,  and  then 
that  night  suddenly  brought  them  to  her  at 
such  a  late  hour  ?  What  was  he  going  away 
for?  What  was  that  strange  light  upon  his 
face  ?  She  had  never  seen  such  a  look  upon 
Snorro's  face  before.  She  let  these  questions 
importune  her  all  night,  but  she  never  dared  put 
into  form  the  suspicion  which  lay  dormant 
below  them,  that  Jan  had  something  to  do  with 
it ;  that  Snorro  had  heard  from  Jan. 

In  the  morning  she  took  the  trinkets  with  her 
to  Dr.  Balloch's.  She  laid  them  before  him 
one  by  one,  telling  when,  and  how,  they  had 


254  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE, 

been  offered  and  refused.  "  All  but  this,"  she 
said,  bursting  into  childlike  weeping,  and  show- 
ing the  battered,  tarnished  baby  coral.  "  He 
brought  this  for  his  child,  and  I  would  not  let 
him  see  the  baby.  Oh,  can  there  be  any  mercy 
for  one  so  unmerciful  as  I  was  ?  " 

"  Daughter,  weep ;  thy  tears  are  gracious 
tears.  Would  to  God  poor  Jan  could  see  thee 
at  this  hour.  Whatever  happiness  may  now  be 
his  lot,  thy  contrition  would  add  to  it,  I  know. 
Go  home  to-day.  No  one  is  in  any  greater 
trouble  than  thou  art.  Give  to  thyself  tears 
and  prayers ;  it  may  be  that  ere  long  God  will 
comfort  thee.  And  as  thou  goes,  call  at 
Snorro's  house.  See  that  the  fire  is  out,  lock 
the  door,  and  bring  me  the  key  when  thou 
comes  to-morrow.  I  promised  Snorro  to  care 
for  his  property." 

"  Where  hath  Snorro  gone  ?  " 

"  What  did  he  say  to  thee  ?  " 

"  That  he  was  going  to  Wick.  But  how  then 
did  he  go  ?  There  was  no  steamer  due." 

"Lord  Lynne  took  him  in  his  yacht/' 

"  That  is  strange !  "  and  Margaret  looked 
steadily  at  Dr.  Balloch.  "  It  seems  to  me,  that 
Lord  Lynne's  yacht  was  at  Lerwick,  on  that 
night  ;  thou  knowest." 


SNOKRO  AND  JAN.  «55 

"  When  Skager  and  Jan  quarreled  ?  * 
She  bowed  her  head,  and  continued  to  gaze 
inquisitively  at  him. 

"  No,  thou  art  mistaken.  On  that  night  he 
was  far  off  on  the  Norway  coast.  It  must  havfi 
been  two  weeks  afterward,  when  he  was  in 
Lerwick. 

"When  will  Lord  Lynne  be  here  again?" 
"  I  know  not ;  perhaps  in  a  few  wefcks,  per. 
haps  not  until  the  end   of  summer.     He  may 
not  come  again  this  year.     He  is  more  uMcer* 
tain  than  the  weather." 

Margaret  sighed,  and  gathering  her  treasures 
together  she  went  away.  As  she  had  be;:n 
desired,  she  called  at  Snorro's  house.  The  k£y 
was  on  the  outside  of  the  door,  she  turned  ft, 
and  went  in.  The  fire  had  been  carefully  ex> 
tinguished,  and  the  books  and  simple  treasures 
he  valued  locked  up  in  his  wooden  chest.  It 
had  evidently  been  quite  filled  with  these,  for 
his  clothes  hung  against  the  wall  of  an  inner 
apartment.  Before  these  clothes  Margaret 
stood  in  a  kind  of  amazement.  She  was  very 
slow  of  thought,  but  gradually  certain  facts  in 
relation  to  them  fixed  themselves  in  her  mind 
with  a  conviction  which  no  reasoning  couJd 
change. 


256  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

Snorro  had  gone  away  in  his  best  clothes;  his 
fishing  suit  and  his  working  suit  he  had  left 
behind.  It  was  clear,  then,  that  he  had  not  gone 
to  the  Wick  fisheries ;  equally  clear  that  he  had 
not  gone  away  with  any  purpose  of  following 
his  occupation  in  loading  and  unloading  ves- 
sels. Why  had  he  gone  then  ?  Margaret  was 
sure  that  he  had  no  friends  beyond  the  Shet- 
lands.  Who  was  there  in  all  the  world  that 
could  tempt  Snorro  from  the  little  home  he 
had ;  made  and  loved  ;  and  who,  or  what  could 
induce  him  to  leave  little  Jan  ? 

Only  Jans  father  ! 

She  came  to  this  conclusion  at  last  with  a 
clearness  and  rapidity  that  almost  frightened 
her.  Her  cheeks  burned,  her  heart  beat  wildly, 
and  then  a  kind  of  anger  took  possession  of 
her.  If  Snorro  knew  any  thing,  Dr.  Balloch 
did  also.  Why  was  she  kept  in  anxiety  and 
uncertainty  ?  "  I  will  be  very  quiet  and  watch," 
she  thought,  "  and  when  Lord  Lynne  comes 
again,  I  will  follow  him  into  the  manse,  and  ask 
him  where  my  husband  is." 

As  she  took  a  final  look  at  Snorro's  belong- 
ings, she  thought  pitifully,  "  How  little  he  has! 
And  yet  who  was  so  good  and  helpful  to  every 


-    SNORKO  AND  JAN.  ,  257 

one?  I  might  have  taken  more  interest  in  his 
housekeeping !  How  many  little  things  I  could 
easily  have  added  to  his  comforts !  What  a 
selfish  woman  I  must  be  !  Little  wonder  that 
he  despised  me!"  And  she  determined  that 
hour  to  make  Jan's  friend  her  friend  when  he 
came  back,  and  to  look  better  after  his  house- 
hold pleasures  and  needs. 

She  had  plenty  now  to  think  about,  and  she 
was  on  the  alert  morning,  noon,  and  night ;  but 
nothing  further  transpired  to  feed  her  hope  for 
nearly  a  month.  The  fishing  season  was  then 
in  full  business,  and  Peter  Fae,  as  usual,  full  of 
its  cares.  There  had  been  no  formal  reconcili- 
ation between  Margaret  and  her  father  and 
stepmother,  and  there  was  no  social  intercourse 
between  the  houses,  but  still  they  were  on 
apparent  terms  of  friendship  with  each  other. 
The  anger  and  ill-will  had  gradually  worn  away, 
and  both  Peter  andSuneva  looked  with  respect 
upon  a  woman  so  much  in  the  minister's  favor 
and  company.  Peter  sent  her  frequent  presents 
from  the  store,  and  really  looked  upon  his 
handsome  little  grandson  with  longing  and  pride. 
When  he  was  a  few  years  older  he  intended  -to* 
propose  to  pay  for  his  education.  a  We'll  send 


VEDDER*S  WIFE* 

him  to  Edinburgh,  Suneva,"  he  frequently  said, 
"  and  we  will  grudge  nothing  that  is  for  his 
welfare." 

And  Suneva,  who  had  carefully  fostered  this 
scheme,  would  reply,  "  That  is  what  I  have 
always  said,  Peter.  It  is  a  poor  family  that  has 
not  one  gentleman  in  it,  and,  please  God  and 
thy  pocket-book,  we  will  make  a  gentleman  and 
a  minister  of  our  little  Jan  ;  "  and  the  thought 
of  his  grandson  filling  a  pulpit  satisfied  Peter's 
highest  ambition. 

So,  though  there  had  been  no  visiting  between 
the  two  houses,  there  were  frequent  tokens  of 
courtesy  and  good-will,  and  Margaret,  passing 
through  the  town,  and  seeing  her  father  at  his 
shop-door,  stopped  to  speak  to  him. 

"  Where  hast  thou  been,  and  where  is  thy 
boy?"  he  asked. 

"  He  is  at  home  with  Elga.  I  have  been  to 
read  with  Mary  Venn  ;  she  is  failing  fast,  and 
not  long  for  this  life." 

As  they  spoke  Tulloch  approached,  and,  with 
a  cold  bow  to  Peter,  turned  to  Margaret  and 
said,  "  I  will  walk  with  thee,  Mistress  Vedder, 
as  I  have  some  business  matter  to  speak  of." 
Then,  after  they  had  turned  to  Margaret's 


SNORRO  AND  JAN.  259 

home :  "  It  was  about  the  interest  of  the  seven 
hundred  pounds  placed  to  thy  credit  a  few  days 
since.  I  will  count  the  interest  from  the  first 
of  the  month." 

Margaret  was  completely  amazed.  "  Seven 
hundred  pounds !  "  she  said,  in  a  low  trembling 
voice.  "I  know  nothing  about  it.  Surely thou 
art  dreaming.  Who  brought  it  to  thee?  " 

"  Dr.  Balloch.  He  said  it  was  conscience 
money  and  not  to  be  talked  about.  I  suppose 
thy  father  sent  it,  for  it  is  well  known  that  he 
made  his  will  a  few  days  ago." 

Margaret,  however,  did  not  believe  that  it 
was  her  father.  She  was  sure  Jan  had  sent  the 
money.  It  was  her  £600,  with  ;£ioo  for  interest. 
And  oh,  how  it  pained  her  !  Somewhere  on 
earth  Jan  was  alive,  and  he  would  neither  come 
to  her,  nor  write  to  her.  He  sent  her  gold 
instead  of  love,  as  if  gold  were  all  she  wanted. 
He  could  scarcely  have  contrived  a  more  cruel 
revenge,  she  thought.  For  once  she  absolutely 
hated  money;  but  it  put  into  her  mind  a  pur- 
pose  which  would  not  leave  it.  If  Snorro  could 
find  Jan,  she  could.  The  money  Jan  had  sent 
she  would  use  for  that  purpose. 

She  was  cautious  and  suspicious  by  nature. 


260  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

and  she  determined  to  keep  her  intention  close 
in  her  own  heart.  All  summer  she  watched 
anxiously  for  the  return  of  "The  Lapwing/'  but 
it  came  not.  One  day,  in  the  latter  part  of 
August,  Dr.  Balloch  asked  her  to  answer  for 
him  a  letter  which  he  had  received  from  Lord 
Lynne.  She  noted  the  address  carefully.  It ' 
was  in  Hyde  Park,  London.  Very  well,  she 
would  go  to  London.  Perhaps  she  would  be 
nearer  to  Jan  if  she  did. 

She  had  now  nearly  j£i,ooo  of  her  own.  If 
she  spent  every  farthing  of  it  in  the  search  and 
failed,  she  yet  felt  that  she  would  be  happier 
for  having  made  the  effort.  The  scheme  took 
entire  possession  of  her,  and  the  difficulties  in 
the  way  of  its  accomplishment  only  made  her 
more  stubbornly  determined.  The  first,  was 
that  of  reaching  the  mainland  without  encount- 
ering opposition.  She  was  sure  that  both  her 
father  and  Dr.  Balloch  would  endeavor  to  dis, 
suade  her ;  she  feared  they  would  influence  her 
against  her  heart  and  judgment.  After  August, 
the  mail  boats  would  be  irregular  and  infre- 
quent ;  there  was  really  not  a  day  to  be  lost. 

In  the  morning  she  went  to  see  Tulloch.  He 
was  eating  his  breakfast  and  he  was  not  at  all 


SNORRO  AND  JAN.  261 

astonished  to  see  her.  He  thought  she  had 
come  to  talk  to  him  about  the  investment  of 
her  money. 

"  Good  morning,  Mistress  Vedder !  Thou 
hast  been  much  on  my  mind,  thou  and  thy 
money,  and  no  doubt  it  is  a  matter  of  some 
consequence  what  thou  will  do  with  it." 

"I  am  come  to  speak  to  thee  as  a  friend,  in 
whom  I  may  confide  a  secret.  Wilt  thou  hear, 
and  keep  it,  and  give  me  good  advice  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  like  to  have   to  do  with  women's 
secrets,  but  thou  art  a  woman  by  thyself.    Tell 
me  all,  then,  but  do  not  make  more  of  the  mat- 
ter than  it  is  worth/' 
> 

"When  Jan  Vedder  had  no  other  friend, 
thou  stood  by  him." 

"  What  then  ?  Jan  was  a  good  man.  I  say 
that  yet,  and  I  say  it  to  thy  face,  Margaret  Ved- 
der. I  think,  too,  that  he  had  many  wrongs." 

"  I  think  that  too,  and  I  shall  be  a  miserable 
woman  until  I  have  found  Jan,  and  can  tell  him 
to  his  face  how  sorry  I  am.  So  then,  I  am 
going  away  to  find  him." 

"  What  art  thou  talking  of  ?  Poor  Jan  is 
dead.  I  am  sure  that  is  so." 

"  I  am  sure  it  is  not  so.  Now  let  me  tell 


a6a  JAN  VEDDER*S  WIFE, 

all."  Then  she  went  over  the  circumstances 
which  had  fed  her  convictions,  with  a  clearness 
and  certainty  which  brought  conviction  to 
Tulloch's  mind  also. 

"  I  am  sure  thou  are  right,"  he  answered 
gravely,  "  and  I  have  nothing  at  all  to  say 
against  thy  plan.  It  is  a  very  good  plan  if  it 
has  good  management.  Now,  then,  where  will 
thou  go  first  ?  " 

"  I  have  Lord  Lynne's  address  in  London. 
I  will  go  first  of  all  to  him.  Jan  sent  me  that 
money,  I  am  sure.  It  must  have  been  a  person 
of  wealth  and  power  who  helped  him  to  make 
such  a  sum,  or  he  must  have  lent  Jan  the 
money.  I  think  this  person  was  Lord 
Lynne." 

"  I  think  that  too.     Now  about  thy  money  ?  " 

"  I  will  take  it  with  me.  Money  in  the  pocket 
is  a  ready  friend." 

"  No,  it  will  be  a  great  care  to  thee.  The 
best  plan  for  thee  is  this :  take  fifty  pounds  in  thy 
pocket,  and  I  will  give  thee  a  letter  of  credit 
for  the  balance  on  a  banking  firm  in  London. 
I  will  also  write  to  them,  and  then,  if  thou  wants 
advice  on  any  matter,  or  a  friend  in  any  case, 
there  they  will  be  to  help  thee." 


SNOKXO  AND  JAN.  **  J 

"  That  is  good.  I  will  leave  also  with  thee 
twenty-five  pounds  for  Elga.  Thou  art  to  pay 
her  five  shillings  every  week.  She  will  care  for 
my  house  until  I  return." 

"And  thy  child?" 

"  I  will  take  him  with  me.  If  Jan  is  hard  to 
me,  he  may  forgive  me  for  the  child's  sake." 

"Build  not  thy  hopes  too  high.  Jan  had  a 
great  heart,  but  men  are  men,  and  not  God. 
Jan  may  have  forgotten  thee." 

"  I  have  deserved  to  be  forgotten." 
*  He  may  not  desire  to  live  with  thee  any 
more." 

"  If  he  will  only  listen  to  me  while  I  say,  '  I 
am  sorry  with  all  my  heart,  Jan  ; '  if  he  will 
only  forgive  my  unkindness  to  him,  I  shall  count 
the  journey  well  made,  though  I  go  to  the  ends 
of  the  earth  to  see  him." 

•'God  go  with  thee,  and  make  all  thy  plans 
to  prosper.  Here  is  the  table  of  the  mail  boats. 
One  leaves  next  Saturday  morning  at  six 
o'clock.  My  advice  is  to  take  it.  I  will  send 
on  Thursday  afternoon  for  thy  trunk,  and  Friday 
night  I  will  find  some  stranger  fisher-boy  to 
take  it  to  the  boat.  Come  thou  to  my  house 
when  all  is  quiet,  and  I  will  see  thee  safely  on 


264 

board.  At  six  in  the  morning,  when  she  sails, 
the  quay  will  be  crowded." 

"  I  will  do  all  this.  Speak  not  of  the  matter, 
I  ask  thee." 

"Thou  may  fully  trust  me." 

Then  Margaret  went  home  with  a  light  heart. 
Her  way  had  been  made  very  plain  to  her ;  it 
only  now  remained  to  bind  Elga  to  her  interest. 
This  was  not  hard  to  do.  Elga  promised  to 
remain  for  two  years  in  charge  of  the  house  if 
Margaret  did  not  return  before.  She  felt  rich 
with  an  allowance  of  five  shillings  a  week,  and 
the  knowledge  that  Banker  Tulloch  had  author- 
ity to  prevent  either  Peter  or  Suneva  from 
troubling  her  during  that  time.  So  that  it  was 
Riga's  interest,  even  if  it  had  not  been  her  will, 
to  give  no  information  which  might  lead  to  the 
breaking  up  of  the  comfort  dependent  on  Mar- 
garet's absence. 

Nothing  interfered  with  Margaret's  plans. 
During  the  three  intervening  days,  she  went  as 
usual  to  Dr.  Balloch's.  Twice  she  tried  to 
introduce  the  subject  of  Snorro's  singular  jour, 
ney,  and  each  time  she  contrived  to  let  the 
minister  see  that  she  connected  it  in  her  own 
mind  with  Jan.  She  noticed  that  on  one  of 


SNORRO  AND  JAN.  265 

these  occasions,  the  doctor  gave  her  a  long, 
searching  look,  and  that  the  expression  of 
his  own  face  was  that  of  extreme  indecision. 
She  almost  thought  that  he  was  going  to  tell 
her  something,  but  he  suddenly  rose  and 
changed  the  subject  of  their  conversation,  in 
a  very  decided  manner.  His  reticence  pained 
and  silenced  her,  for  she  almost  longed  to 
open  her  heart  to  him.  Yet,  as  he  gave  her 
no  encouragement,  she  was  too  shy,  and  per- 
haps too  proud  to  force  upon  him  an  evidently 
undesired  confidence.  She  determined,  how- 
ever, to  leave  letters  for  him,  and  for  her  father, 
stating  the  object  of  her  voyage,  but  enter- 
ing into  no  particulars  about  it.  These  letters 
she  would  put  in  Elga's  care,  with  orders  not 
to  deliver  them  until  Saturday  night.  By  that 
time  Margaret  Vedder  hoped  to  be  more  than 
a  hundred  miles  beyond  Lerwick. 

In  the  meantime  Snorro  had  reached  Ports- 
mouth, his  journey  thither  having  been  unevent- 
ful. "  The  Retribution  "  had  arrived  two  days 
before,  and  was  lying  in  dock.  At  the  dock 
office  a  letter  which  Lord  Lynne  had  given 
him,  procured  an  admission  to  visit  the  ship, 
and  her  tall  tapering  masts  were  politely 


266  JAN  VE ODER'S  WIFE. 

pointed  out  to  him.  Snorro  went  with  rapid 
strides  toward  her,  for  it  was  near  sunset  and 
he  knew  that  after  the  gun  had  been  fired, 
there  would  be  difficulty  in  getting  on  board. 
He  soon  came  to  the  ship  of  his  desire.  Her 
crew  were  at  their  evening  mess,  only  two  or 
three  sailors  were  to  be  seen. 

Snorro  paused  a  moment,  for  he  was  tremb- 
ling with  emotion,  and  as  he  stood  he  saw 
three  officers  come  from  the  cabin.  They 
grouped  themselves  on  the  quarter-deck,  and 
one  of  them,  taller,  and  more  splendidly  dressed 
than  the  others,  turned,  and  seemed  to  look 
directly  at  Snorro.  The  poor  fellow  stretched 
out  his  arms,  but  his  tongue  was  heavy,  like 
that  of  a  man  in  ,  a  dream,  and  though  he 
knew  it  was  Jan,  he  could  not  call  him.  He 
had  received  at  the  office,  however,  a  permit 
to  board  "The  Retribution"  in  order  to  speak 
with  her  commander,  and  he  found  no  difficulty 
in  reaching  him. 

Jan  was  still  standing  near  the  wheel  talk- 
ing  to  his  officers  as  Snorro  approached.  Now 
that  the  moment  so  long  watched  and  waited 
for,  had  come,  poor  Snorro  could  hardly  be- 
lieve it,  and  beside,  he  had  seen  in  the  first 


StfORRO  AND  JAN.  267 

glance  at  his  friend,  that  this  was  a  different 
Jan  somehow  from  the  old  one.  It  was  not 
alone  his  fine  uniform,  his  sash  and  sword  and 
cocked  hat ;  Jan  had  acquired  an  air  of  com- 
mand, an  indisputable  nobility  and  ease  ot 
manner,  and  for  a  moment,  Snorro  doubted  if 
he  had  done  well  to  come  into  his  presence  un- 
announced. 

He  stood  with  his  cap  in  his  hand  waiting, 
feeling  heart-faint  with  anxiety.  Then  an  officer 
said  some  words  to  Jan,  and  he  turned  and 
looked  at  Snorro. 

"  Snorro !  Snorro !  " 

The  cry  was  clear  and  glad,  and  the  next 
moment  Jan  was  clasping  both  his  old  friend's 
hands.  As  for  Snorro,  his  look  of  devotion, 
of  admiration,  of  supreme  happiness  was  enough. 
It  was  touching  beyond  all  words,  and  Jan  felt 
his  eyes  fill  as  he  took  his  arm  and  led  him 
into  his  cabin. 

"  I  am  come  to  thee,  my  captain.  I  would 
have  come,  had  thou  been  at  the  end  of  the 
earth." 

"  And  we  will  part  no  more,  Snorro,  we  two, 
Give  me  thy  hand  on  that  promise." 

"  No  more,  no  more,  my  captain." 


26E  JAN  VEDDER  'S  WIFE, 

"  To  thee,  I  am  always '  Jan.'  " 

"  My  heart  shall  call  thee  *  Jan,  *  but  my  lips 
shall  always  say  '  my  captain/  so  glad  are  they  to 
say  it !  Shall  I  not  sail  with  thee  as  long  as  we 
two  live  ?  " 

"  We  are  mates  for  life,  Snorro." 

Jan  sent  his  boy  for  bread  and  meat.  "  Thou 
art  hungry  I  know,"  he  said  ;  "  when  did  thou 
eat?** 

"Not  since  morning.  To-day  I  was  not 
hungry,  I  thought  only  of  seeing  thee  again." 

At  first  neither  spoke  of  the  subject  nearest  to 
Jan's  heart.  There  was  much  to  tell  of 
people  long  known  to  both  men,  but  gradually 
the  conversation  became  slower  and  more 
earnest,  and  then  Snorro  began  to  talk  of  Peter 
Fae  and  his  marriage.  "  It  hath  been  a  good 
thing  for  Peter,"  he  said ;  "  he  looks  by  ten  years 
a  younger  man." 

u  And  Suneva,  is  she  happy  ?  " 

"Well,  then,  she  dresses  gayly,  and  gives 
many  fine  parties,  and  is  what  she  likes  best  of 
all,  the  great  lady  of  the  town.  But  she  hath 
not  a  bad  heart,  and  I  think  it  was  not  altogether 
her  fault  if  thy  wife  was " 

"  If  my  wife  was  what,  Snorro  ?  " 


SNOKRO  AND  JAN.  269 

"  If  thy  wife  was  unhappy  in  her  house.  The 
swan  and  the  kittywake  can  not  dwell  in  the 
same  nest." 

"  What  hast  thou  to  tell  me  of  my  wife  and 
son  ?  " 

"  There  is  not  such  a  boy  as  thy  boy  in  all 
Scotland.  He  is  handsomer  than  thou  art. 
He  is  tall  and  strong,  and  lish  and  active  as 
a  fish.  He  can  dive  and  swim  like  a  seal,  he 
can  climb  like  a  whaler's  boy,  he  can  fling  a 
spear,  and  ride,  and  run,  and  read  ;  and  he  was 
beginning  to  write  his  letters  on  a  slate  when  I 
came  away.  Also,  he  was  making  a  boat,  for 
he  loves  the  sea,  as  thou  loves  it.  Oh,  I  tell  thee, 
there  is  not  another  boy  to  marrow  thy  little 
Jan." 

"  Is  he  called  Jan  ?  " 

"Yes,  he  is  called  Jan  after  thee." 

"  This  is  great  good  news,  Snorro.  What 
now  of  my  wife  ?  " 

Snorro's  voice  changed,  and  all  the  light  left 
his  face.  He  spoke  slowly,  but  with  decision. 
"  She  is  a  very  good  woman.  There  is  not 
a  better  woman  to  be  found  anywhere  than 
Margaret  Vedder.  The  minister  said  I  was  to 
tell  thee  how  kind  she  is  to  all  who  are  sick 


270  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

and  in  trouble,  and  to  him  she  is  as  his  right 
hand.     Yes,  I  will  tell  thee  truly,  that  he  thinks 
she  is  worthy  of  thy  love  now." 
"And  what  dost  thou  think?" 
"I  do  not  think  she  is  worthy." 
"Why  dost  thou  not  think  so?" 
"  A  woman  may  be  an  angel,  and  love  thee 
not." 

"  Then  thou  thinks  she  loves  me  not  ?  Why  • 
Has  she  other  lovers  ?  Tell  me  truly,  Snorro." 
"  The  man  lives  not  in  Lerwick  who  would 
dare  to  speak  a  word  of  love  to  Margaret 
Vedder.  She  walks  apart  from  all  merry- 
making, and  from  all  friends.  As  I  have  told 
thee  she  lives  in  her  own  house,  and  enters 
no  other  house  but  the  manse,  unless  it  be 
to  see  some  one  in  pain  or  sorrow.  She  is  a 
loving  mother  to  thy  son,  but  she  loves  not 
thee.  I  will  tell  thee  why  I  think."  Then 
Snorro  recounted  with  accurate  truthfulness  his 
last  interview  with  Margaret.  He  told  Jan 
everything,  for  he  had  noted  everything  : — her 
dress,  her  attitude,  her  rising  color,  her  interest 
in  the  locket's  chain,  her  indifference  as  to  his 
own  hurried  journey,  its  object,  or  its  length. 
Jan  heard  all  in  silence,  but  the  impression 


SNORRO  AND  JAN.  271 

made  on  him  by  Snorro's  recital,  was  not  what 
Snorro  expected.  Jan  knew  Margaret's  slow, 
proud  nature.  He  would  have  been  astonished, 
perhaps  even  a  little  suspicious  of  any  exag- 
geration of  feeling,  of  tears,  or  of  ejaculations. 
Her  interest  in  the  locket  chain  said  a  great  deal 
to  him.  Sitting  by  his  side,  with  her  fair  face 
almost  against  his  own,  she  had  drawn  the 
pattern  of  the  chain  she  wished.  Evidently 
she  had  remembered  it ;  he  understood  that  it 
was  her  emotion  at  the  recognition  which  had 
made  her  so  silent,  and  so  oblivious  of  Snorro's 
affairs.  The  minister's  opinion  had  also  great 
weight  with  him.  Dr.  Balloch  knew  the  whole 
story  of  his  wrong,  knew  just  where  he  had 
failed,  and  where  Margaret  had  failed.  If  he 
believed  a  reconciliation  was  now  possible  and 
desirable,  then  Jan  also  was  sure  of  it. 

Snorro  saw  the  purpose  in  his  face.  Perhaps 
he  had  a  moment's  jealous  pang,  but  it  was 
instantly  put  down.  He  hastened  to  let  Jan 
feel  that,  even  in  this  matter,  he  must  always 
be  at  one  with  him : 

"  Trust  not  to  me,"  he  said;  "it  is  little  I 
know  or  understand  about  women,  and  I  may 
judge  Margaret  Vedder  far  wrong." 


2J2  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

"  I  th'ink  thou  does,  Snorro.  She  was  never 
one  to  make  a  great  show  of  her  grief  or  her 
regrets.  But  I  will  tell  thee  what  she  did  when 
thou  wert  gone  away.  In  her  own  room,  she 
wept  over  that  chain  the  whole  night  long." 

"That  may  be.  When  little  Jan  had  the 
croup  she  was  still  and  calm  until  the  boy  was 
out  of  danger,  and  then  she  wept  until  my  heart 
ached  for  her.  Only  once  besides  have  I  seen 
her  weep ;  that  was  when  Suneva  accused  her  of 
thy  murder;  then  she  took  her  baby  in  her 
arms  and  came  through  the  storm  to  me  at  the 
store.  Yes,  she  wept  sorely  that  night." 

Jan  sat  with  tightly-drawn  lips. 

"  If  it  will  make  thee  happy,  send  me  back  to 
Lerwick,  and  I  will  bring  thy  wife  and  child 
safely  here.  Thou  would  be  proud  indeed  to 
see  them.  The  boy  is  all  I  have  told  thee.  His 
mother  is  ten  times  handsomer  than  when  thou 
married  her.  She  is  the  fairest  and  most  beau- 
tiful of  women.  When  she  walks  down  the 
street  at  the  minister's  side,  she  is  like  no  other 
woman.  Even  Peter  Fae  is  now  proud  that 
she  is  his  daughter,  and  he  sends  her  of  the 
finest  that  comes  to  his  hand.  Shall  I  then  go 
for  thee  ?  Why  not  go  thyself  ?  " 


SNORRO  AND  JAN.  273 

"  I  will  think  about  it,  Snorro.  I  can  not  go 
myself.  I  received  my  promotion  yesterday, 
and  I  asked  to  be  transferred  for  immediate 
service.  I  may  get  my  orders  any  day.  If  I 
send  thee,  I  may  have  to  sail  without  thee,  and 
yet  not  see  my  wife  and  child.  No,  I  will  not 
part  with  thee,  Snorro  ;  thou  art  a  certain  gain, 
and  about  the  rest,  I  will  think  well.  Now  we 
will  say  no  more,  for  I  am  weary  and  weak  ;  my 
head  aches  also,  and  I  fear  I  have  fever  again." 

The  next  day  Jan  was  very  ill,  and  it  was 
soon  evident  that  typhoid  fever  of  a  long  and 
exhausting  character  had  supervened  on  a  con- 
dition enfeebled  by  African  malaria.  For  many 
weeks  he  lay  below  the  care  of  love  or  life,  and 
indeed  it  was  August  when  he  was  able  to  get 
on  deck  again.  Then  he  longed  for  the  open 
sea,  and  so  urged  his  desire,  that  he  received  an 
immediate  exchange  to  the  ship  Hydra,  going 
out  to  Borneo  with  assistance  for  Rajah  Brooke, 
who  was  waging  an  exterminating  war  against 
the  pirates  of  the  Chinese  and  Indian  seas. 

The  new  ship  was  a  very  fine  one,  and  Jan 
was  proud  of  his  command.  Snorro  also  had 
been  assigned  to  duty  on  her,  having  special 
charge  ol  a  fine  Lancaster  gun  which  she  car- 


274  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

ried,.and  no  words  could  express  his  pride  and 
joy  in  his  position.  She  was  to  sail  on  the  I  5th 
day  of  August,  one  hour  after  noon,  and  early 
in  the  morning  of  that  day,  Jan  went  off  the 
ship  alone.  He  went  direct  to  the  Post  Office, 
and  with  trembling  hands,  for  he  was  still  very 
weak,  he  dropped  into  it  the  following  letter : 

MY  DEAR  WIFE — MY  FAIR  DEAR  MARGARET  : 
I  have  never  ceased  to  love  thee.  Ask  Dr.  Bal- 
loch  to  tell  thee  all.  To-day  I  leave  for  the 
Chinese  sea.  If  thou  wilt  forgive  and  forget 
the  past,  and  take  me  again  for  thy  husband, 
have  then  a  letter  waiting  for  me  at  the  Admi- 
ralty Office,  and  when  I  return  I  will  come  to 
Shetland  for  thee.  Snorro  is  with  me.  He 
hath  told  rne  all  about  thy  goodness,  and  about 
our  lictle  Jan.  Do  what  thy  heart  tells  thee  to 
do,  and  nothing  else.  Then  there  will  be  hap- 
piness. Thy  loving  husband, 

JAN  VEDDER. 

A  few  hours  after  this  letter  had  been  posted. 
Jan  stood  on  his  quarter  deck  with  his  face  to 
the  open  sea,  and  Snorro,  in  his  new  uniform, 
elate  with  joy  and  pride,  was  issuing  his  first 
orders  to  the  quarter-master,  and  feeling  that 
even  for  him,  life  had  really  begun  at  last. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

LITTLE  JAN'S    TRIUMPH. 

•  I  deemed  thy  garments,  O  my  hope,  were  gray, 
So  far  I  viewed  thee.     Now  the  space  between 
Is  passed  at  length  ;  and  garmented  in  green 

Even  as  in  days  of  yore  thou  stand'st  to-day. 

Ah  God  !  and  but  for  lingering  dull  dismay, 
On  all  that  road  our  footsteps  erst  had  been 
Even  thus  commingled,  and  our  shadows  seen 

Blent  on  the  hedgerows  and  the  water  way." 

MARGARET  intended    leaving   Saturday, 
but  on  Thursday  night  something   hap- 
pened, the  most  unlooked-for  thing  that  couloV 
have  happened  to  her — she  received  Jan's  letter. 
.As  she  was  standing  beside  her  packed  trunk, 
she  heard  Elga  call : 

"  Here  has  come  Sandy  Bane  with  a  letter, 
Mistress  Vedder,  and  he  will  give  it  to  none  but 
thee." 

It  is  not  always  that  we  have  presentiments. 


276  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

That  strange  intelligence,  that  wraith  of  coming 
events,  does  not  speak,  except  a  prescient  soul 
listens.  Margaret  attached  no  importance  to 
the  call.  Dr.  Balloch  often  sent  letters,  she 
supposed  Sandy  was  waiting  for  a  penny  fee. 
With  her  usua.  neatness,  she  put  away  some 
trifles,  locked  her  drawers,  and  then  washed  her 
hands  and  face.  Sandy  was  in  no  hurry  either ; 
Elga  had  given  him  a  cup  of  tea,  and  a  toasted 
barley-cake,  and  he  was  telling  her  bits  of  gossip 
about  the  boats  and  fishers. 

While  they  were  talking,  Margaret  entered  , 
she  gave  Sandy  a  penny,  and  then  with  that 
vague  curiosity  which  is  stirred  by  the  sight  of 
almost  any  letter,  she  stretched  out  her  hand 
for  the  one  he  had  brought.  The  moment  she 
saw  it,  she  understood  that  something  wonder- 
ful had  come  to  her.  Quick  as  thought  she 
took  in  the  significance  of  the  official  blue 
paper  and  the  scarlet  seal.  In  those  days,  officers 
in  the  Admiralty  used  imposing  stationery,  and 
Jan  had  felt  a  certain  pride  in  giving  his  few 
earnest  words  the  sanction  of  his  honor  and 
office.  Certainly  it  had  a  great  effect  upon 
Margaret,  although  only  those  very  familiar 
with  her,  could  have  detected  the  storm  of 


LITTLE  JAN'S  TRIUMPH.  27? 

anxiety  and  love  concealed  beneath  her  calm 
face  and  her  few  common  words. 

But  oh,  when  she  stood  alone  with  Jan's 
loving  letter  in  her  hand,  then  all  barriers  were 
swept  away.  The  abandon  of  her  slow,  strong 
nature,  had  in  it  an  intensity  impossible  to 
quicker  and  shallower  affection.  There  was  an 
hour  in  which  she  forgot  her  mortality,  when 
her  soul  leaned  and  hearkened  after  Jan's  soul, 
till  it  seemed  not  only  possible,  but  positive, 
that  he  had  heard  her  passionate  cry  of  love 
and  sorrow,  and  answered  it.  In  that  moment 
of  intense  silence  which  succeeds  intense  feel- 
ing, she  was  sure  Jan  called  her.  " Margaret !  " 
She  heard  the  spiritual  voice,  soft,  clear,  sweeter 
than  the  sweetest  music,  and  many  a  soul  that 
in  extremities  has  touched  the  heavenly  hori- 
zon will  understand  that  she  was  not  mistaken. 

In  an  hour  Tulloch  sent  for  her  trunk. 

"  There  is  no  trunk  to  be  sent  now ;  tell 
Tulloch  that  Margaret  Vedder  will  tell  him  the 
why  and  the  wherefore  to-morrow."  Elga  was 
amazed,  and  somewhat  disappointed,  but  Mar- 
garet's face  astonished  and  subdued  her,  and 
she  did  not  dare  to  ask,  "  What  then  is  the 
matter  ?  " 


278  JAN  VEDDER*S  WIFE. 

Margaret  slept  little  that  night.  To  the  first 
overwhelming  personality  of  joy  and  sorrow, 
there  succeeded  many  other  trains  of  thought. 
It  was  evident  that  Dr.  Balloch,  perhaps  Snorro 
also,  had  known  always  of  Jan's  life  and  doings. 
She  thought  she  had  been  deceived  by  both, 
and  not  kindly  used.  She  wondered  how  they 
could  see  her  suffer,  year  after  year,  the  slow 
torture  of  uncertainty,  and  unsatisfied  love  and 
repentance.  She  quite  forgot  how  jealously 
she  had  guarded  her  own  feelings,  how  silent 
about  her  husband  she  had  been,  how  resentful 
of  all  allusion  to  him. 

Throughout  the  night  Elga  heard  her  mov- 
ing about  the  house.  She  was  restoring  every 
thing  to  its  place  again.  The  relief  she  felt  in 
this  duty  first  revealed  to  her  the  real  fear  of 
her  soul  at  the  strange  world  into  which  she 
had  resolved  to  go  and  seek  her  husband.  She 
had  the  joy  of  a  child  who  had  been  sent  a 
message  on  some  dark  and  terror-haunted  way, 
and  had  then  been  excused  from  the  task.  Even 
as  a  girl  the  great  outside  world  had  rather  terri- 
fied than  allured  her.  In  her  Edinburgh  school 
she  had  been  homesick  for  the  lonely,  beautiful 
isLnds,  and  nothing  she  had  heard  or  read 


LITTLE  JAN'S  TRIUMPH.  279 

since  had  made  her  wish  to  leave  them.  She 
regarded  Jan's  letter,  coming  just  at  that  time, 
as  a  special  kindness  of  Providence. 

"  Yes,  and  I  am  sure  that  is  true/'  said 
Tulloch  to  her  next  morning.  "  Every  one  has 
something  to  boast  of  now  and  then.  Thou 
canst  say,  t  God  has  kept  me  out  of  the  danger, 
though  doubtless  He  could  have  taken  me 
through  it  very  safely.'  And  it  will  be  much 
to  Jan's  mind,  when  he  hears  that  it  was  thy 
will  to  go  and  seek  him." 

"Thou  wert  ever  kind  to  Jan." 

"  Jan  had  a  good  heart.  I  thought  that 
always/* 

u  And  thou  thought  right ;  how  glad  thou 
will  be  to  see  him !  Yes,  I  know  thou  wilt." 

"  I  shall  see  Jan  no  more,  Margaret,  for  I  am 
going  away  soon,  and  I  shall  never  come  back." 

"Art  thou  sick,  then?" 

"  So  I  think ;  very.  And  I  have  seen  one 
who  knows,  and  when  I  told  him  the  truth,  he 
said  to  me,  '  Set  thy  house  in  order,  Tulloch, 
for  it  is  likely  this  sickness  will  be  thy  last.' 
So  come  in  and  out  as  often  as  thou  can,  Mar- 
garet, and  thou  tell  the  minister  the  road  I  am 
traveling,  for  I  shall  look  to  him  and  thee  to 


280  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

keep  me  company  on  it  as  far  as  we  may  tread 
it  together/* 

It  did  not  enter  Margaret's  mind  to  say  little 
commonplaces  of  negation.  Her  large,  clear 
eyes,  solemn  and  tender,  admitted  the  fact  at 
once,  and  she  answered  the  lonely  man's  peti- 
tion by  laying  her  hand  upon  his,  and  saying, 
"  At  this  time  thou  lean  on  me  like  a  daughter. 
I  will  serve  thee  until  the  last  hour." 

"When  thou  hast  heard  all  concerning  Jan 
from  the  minister,  come  and  tell  me  too  ;  for 
it  will  be  a  great  pleasure  to  me  to  know  how 
Jan  Vedder  turned  his  trouble  into  good 
fortune." 

Probably  Dr.  Balloch  had  received  a  letter 
from  Jan  also,  for  he  looked  singularly  and 
inquisitively  at  Margaret  as  she  entered  his 
room.  She  went  directly  to  his  side,  and  laid 
Jan's  letter  before  him.  He  read  it  slowly 
through,  then  raised  his  face  and  said,  "  Well, 
Margaret?" 

"  It  is  not  so  well.  Thou  knew  all  this  time 
that  Jan  was  alive." 

"  Yes,  I  knew  it.  It  is  likely  to  be  so,  for  I-**1 
I  mean,  I  was  sent  to  save  his  life," 

"  Wilt  thou  tell  me  how  ?  " 


LITTLE  f AN"  S  TRIUMPH.  281 

"Yes,  I  will  tell  thee  now.  Little  thou 
thought  in  those  days  of  Jan  Vedder,  but  I  will 
show  thee  how  God  loved  him  !  One  of  his  holy 
messengers,  one  of  his  consecrated  servants, 
one  of  this  world's  nobles,  were  set  to  work  to- 
gether for  Jan's  salvation."  Then  he  told  her 
all  that  had  happened,  and  he  read  her  Jan's 
letters,  and  as  he  spoke  of  his  great  heart,  and 
his  kind  heart,  the  old  man's  eyes  kindled,  and 
he  began  to  walk  about  the  room  in  his  enthu- 
siasm. 

Such  a  tale  Margaret  had  never  heard  before. 
Tears  of  pity  and  tears  of  pride  washed  clean 
and  clear-seeing  the  eyes  that  had  too  often 
wept  only  for  herself.  "  Oh,  Margaret  i  Mar- 
garet !  "  he  said,  "  learn  this — when  it  is  God's 
pleasure  to  save  a  man,  the  devil  can  not  hinder, 
nor  a  cruel  wife,  nor  false  friends,  nor  total 
shipwreck,  nor  the  murderer's  knife — all  things 
must  work  together  for  it." 

"If  God  gives  Jan  back  to  me,  I  will  love 
and  honor  him  with  all  my  heart  and  soul.  I 
promise  thee  I  will  that." 

"  See  thou  do.  It  will  be  thy  privilege  and 
thy  duty." 

"  Oh,  why  did  thou  not  tell  me  all  this  before  ? 
It  would  have  been  good  for  me." 


282  JAN   VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

"  No,  it  would  have  been  bad  for  thee  Thou 
has  not  suffered  one  hour  longer  than  was  nec- 
essary. Week  by  week,  month  by  month,  year 
by  year,  thy  heart  has  been  growing  more 
humble  and  tender,  more  just  and  unselfish  : 
but  it  was  not  until  Snorro  brought  thee  those 
poor  despised  love-gifts  of  Jan's  that  thou  wast 
humble  and  tender,  and  just,  and  unselfish 
enough  to  leave  all  and  go  and  seek  thy  lost 
husband.  But  I  am  sure  it  was  this  way — the 
very  hour  this  gracious  thought  came  into  thy 
heart  thy  captivity  was  turned.  Now,  then, 
from  thy  own  experience  thou  can  understand 
why  God  hides  even  a  happy  future  from  us. 
If  we  knew  surely  that  fame  or  prosperity  or 
happiness  was  coming,  how  haughty,  how  selfish, 
how  impatient  we  should  be." 

"  I  would  like  thee  to  go  and  tell  my  father 
all." 

"  I  will  tell  thee  what  thou  must  do — go  home 
and  tell  the  great  news  thyself." 

"  I  cannot  go  into  Suneva's  house.  Thou 
should  not  ask  that  of  me." 

"  In  the  day  of  thy  good  fortune,  be  gener- 
ous. Suneva  Fae  has  a  kind  heart,  and  I  blame 
thee  much  that  there  was  trouble.  Because 


LITTLE  JAN'S  TRIUMPfr.  283 

God  has  forgiven  thee,  go  without  a  grudging 
thought,  and  say  —  '  Suneva,  I  was  wrong,  and 
I  am  sorry  for  the  wrong  ;  and  I  have  good 
news,  and  want  my  father  and  thee  to  share  it.'  " 

"  No  ;  I  can  not  do  that." 

"  There  is  no  '  can  '  in  it.  It  is  my  will,  Mar- 
garet, that  thou  go.  Go  at  once,  and  take 
thy  son  with  thee.  The  kind  deed  delayed  is 
worth  very  little.  To-day  that  is  thy  work, 
and  we  will  not  read  or  write.  As  for  me,  I 
will  loose  my  boat,  and  I  will  sail  about  the 
bay,  and  round  by  the  Troll  Rock,  and  I  will 
think  of  these  things  only." 

For  a  few  minutes  Margaret  stood  watching 
him  drift  with  the  tide,  his  boat  rocking  gently, 
and  the  fresh  wind  blowing  his  long  white  hair, 
and  carrying  far  out  to  sea  the  solemnly  joyful 
notes  to  which  he  was  singing  his  morning 
psalm. 

"  Bless,  O  my  soul,  the  Lord  thy  God 

and  not  forgetful  be 
Of  all  his  gracious  benefits 

he  hath  bestowed  on  thee. 


Such  pity  as  a  father 

unto  his  children  dear, 


284  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE, 

Like  pity  shows  the  Lord  to  such 
as  worship  him  in  fear. 

Ps.  103.  v.  2.  13.* 

"Thou  art  a  good  man,"  said  Margaret  to 
herself,  as  she  waved  her  hand  in  farewell,  and 
turned  slowly  homeward.  Most  women  would 
have  been  impatient  to  tell  the  great  news  that 
had  come  to  them,  but  Margaret  could  always 
wait.  Besides,  she  had  been  ordered  to  go  to 
Suneva  with  it,  and  the  task  was  not  a  pleasant 
one  to  her.  She  had  never  been  in  her  father's 
house,  since  she  left  it  with  her  son  in  her  arms  ; 
and  it  was  not  an  easy  thing  for  a  woman  so 
proud  to  go  and  say  to  the  woman  who  had 
supplanted  her — "  I  have  done  wrong,  and  I 
am  sorry  for  it." 

Yet  it  did  not  enter  her  mind  to  disobey  the 
instructions  given  her  ;  she  only  wanted  time  to 
consider  how  to  perform  them  in  the  quietest, 
and  least  painful  manner.  She  took  the  road 
by  the  sea  shore,  and  sat  down  on  a  huge  bar- 
ricade of  rocks.  Generally  such  lonely  com- 
munion with  sea  and  sky  strengthened  and 


*  Version  allowed  by  the  authority  of  the  General  Assembly 
of  'he  Kirk  of  Scotland. 


LITTLE  JAN'S  TRIUMPH.  285 

calmed  her;  but  this  morning  she  could  not 
bring  her  mind  into  accord  with  it.  Accident- 
ally she  dislodged  a  piece  of  rock,  and  it  fell 
among  the  millions  of  birds  sitting  on  the 
shelving  precipices  below  her.  They  flickered 
with  piercing  cries  in  circles  above  her  head, 
and  then  dropped  like  a  shower  into  the  ocean 
with  a  noise  like  the  hurrahing  of  an  army. 
Impatient  and  annoyed,  she  turned  away  from 
the  shore,  across  the  undulating  heathy  plateau. 
She  longed  to  reach  her  own  room ;  perhaps  in 
its  seclusion  she  would  find  the  composure  she 
needed. 

As  she  approached  he*-  house,  she  saw  a 
crowd  of  boys  and  little  Jan  walking  proudly  in 
front  of  them.  One  was  playing  "  Miss  Flora  Mc- 
Donald's reel  "  on  a  violin,  and  the  gay  strains 
were  accompanied  by  finger  snappings,  whist- 
ling, and  occasional  shouts.  "  There  is  no 
quiet  to  be  found  anywhere,  this  morning," 
thought  Margaret,  but  her  curiosity  was  aroused, 
and  she  went  toward  the  children.  They  saw 
her  coming,  and  with  an  accession  of  clamor 
hastened  to  meet  her.  Little  Jan  carried  a 
faded,  battered  wreath  of  unrecognizable  mater- 
ials, and  he  walked  as  proudly  as  Pompey  may 


286  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

have  walked  in  a  Roman  triumph.  When 
Margaret  saw  it,  she  knew  well  what  had  hap- 
pened, and  she  opened  her  arms,  and  held  the 
boy  to  her  heart,  and  kissed  him  over  and  over, 
and  cried  out,  "  Oh,  my  brave  little  Jan,  brave 
little  Jan !  How  did  it  happen  then  ?  Thou 
tell  me  quick." 

"  Hal  Ragner  shall  tell  thee,  my  mother ;  " 
and  Hal  eagerly  stepped  forward : 

"  It  was  last  night,  Mistress  Vedder,  we  were 
all  watching  for  the  '  Arctic  Bounty  ; '  but  she 
did  not  come,  and  this  morning  as  we  were 
playing,  the  word  was  passed  that  she  had 
reached  Peter  Fae's  pier.  Then  we  all  ran,  but 
thou  knowest  that  thy  Jan  runs  like  a  red  deer, 
and  so  he  got  far  ahead,  and  leaped  on  board, 
and  was  climbing  the  mast  first  of  all.  Then 
Bor  Skade,  he  tried  to  climb  over  him,  and 
Nichol  Sinclair,  he  tried  to  hold  him  back,  but 
the  sailors  shouted,  '  Bravo,  little  Jan  Vedder  ! ' 
and  the  skipper  he  shouted  '  Bravo  ! '  and  thy 
father,  he  shouted  higher  than  all  the  rest.  And 
when  Jan  had  cut  loose  the  prize,  he  was  like 
to  greet  for  joy,  and  he  clapped  his  hands,  and 
kissed  Jan,  and  he  gave  him  five  gold  sovereigns, 
— see,  then,  if  he  did  not ! "  And  little  Jan 


LITTLE  JAWS  TRIUMPH.  287 

proudly  put  his  hand  in  his  pocket,  and  held 
them  out  in  his  small  soiled  palm. 

The  feat  which  little  Jan  had  accomplished 
is  one  which  means  all  to  the  Shetland  boy 
that  his  first  buffalo  means  to  the  Indian 
youth.  When  a  whaler  is  in  Arctic  seas,  the 
sailors  on  the  first  of  May  make  a  garland  of 
such  bits  of  ribbons,  love  tokens,  and  keep. 
sakes,  as  have  each  a  private  history,  and  this 
they  tie  to  the  top  of  the  main-mast.  There  it 
swings,  blow  high  or  low,  in  sleet  and  hail, 
until  the  ship  reaches  her  home-port.  Then 
it  is  the  supreme  emulation  of  every  lad,  and 
especially  of  every  sailor's  son,  to  be  first  on 
board  and  first  up  the  mast  to  cut  it  down,  and 
the  boy  who  does  it,  is  the  hero  of  the  day,  and 
has  won  his  footing  on  every  Shetland  boat. 

What  wonder,  then,  that  Margaret  was  proud 
and  happy?  What  wonder  that  in  her  glow 
of  delight  the  thing  she  had  been  seeking  was 
made  clear  to  her?  How  could  she  go  bettet 
to  Suneva  than  with  this  crowd  of  happy 
boys?  If  the  minister  thought  she  ought  to 
share  one  of  her  blessings  with  Suneva,  she 
would  double  her  obedience,  and  ask  her  to 
share  the  mother's  as  well  as  the  wife's  joy. 


288  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

"  One  thing  I  wish,  boys,"  she  said  happily, 
"let  us  go  straight  to  Peter  Fae's  house,  for 
Hal  Ragner  must  tell  Suneva  Fae  the  good 
news  also."  So,  with  a  shout,  the  little  com- 
pany turned,  and  very  soon  Suneva,  who  was 
busy  salting  some  fish  in  the  cellar  of  her 
house,  heard  her  name  called  by  more  than  fifty 
shrill  voices,  in  fifty  different  keys. 

She  hurried  up  stairs,  saying  to  herself,  "  It 
will  be  good  news,  or  great  news  that  has  come 
to  pass,  no  doubt ;  for  when  ill-luck  has  the  day, 
he  does  not  call  any  one  like  that ;  he  comes 
sneaking  in  %  Her  rosy  face  was  full  of  smiles 
when  she  opened  the  door,  but  when  she  saw- 
Margaret  and  Jan  standing  first  of  all,  she  was 
for  the  moment  too  amazed  to  speak. 

Margaret  pointed  to  the  wreath :  "  Our  Jan 
took  it  from  the  top-mast  of  the  '  Arctic 
Bounty ; ' "  she  said.  ''  The  boys  brought  him 
home  to  me,  and  I  have  brought  him  to  thee, 
Suneva.  I  thought  thou  would  like  it." 

"  Our  Jan !  "  In  those  two  words  Margaret 
canceled  every  thing  remembered  against  her. 
Suneva's  eyes  filled,  and  she  stretched  out 
both  her  hands  to  her  step-daughter. 

"  Come  in,  Margaret !     Come  in,  my  brave, 


LITTLE  JAN'S  TRIUMPH.  289 

darling  Jan !  Come  in,  boys,  every  one  of 
you  !  There  is  cake,  and  wheat  bread,  and 
preserved  fruit  enough  for  you  all ;  and  I  shall 
h'nd  a  shilling  for  every  Loy  here,  who  has  kept 
Jan's  triumph  with  him.'*  And  when  Suneva 
had  feasted  the  children  she  brought  a  leather 
pouch,  and  counting  out  £2  145.,  sent  them 
away,  fiddling  and  singing,  and  shouting  with 
delight. 

But  Margaret  stayed  ;  and  the  two  women 
talked  their  bitterness  over  to  its  very  root. 
For  Suneva  said  :  "  We  will  leave  nothing  unex- 
plained, and  nothing  that  is  doubtful.  Tell  me 
the  worst  thou  hast  thought,  and  the  worst 
thou  hast  heard,  and  what  I  can  not  excuse, 
that  I  will  say,  '  I  am  sorry  for/  and  thou  wilt 
forgive  it,  I  know  thou  wilt."  And  after  this 
admission,  it  was  easy  for  Margaret  also  to  say, 
"  I  am  sorry ; "  and  when  that  part  of  the 
matter  had  been  settled,  she  added,  "  Now 
then,  Suneva,  I  have  great  good  news  to  tell 
thee." 

But  with  the  words  Peter  and  the  minister 
entered  the  house,  and  Margaret  went  to  Dr, 
Balloch  and  said,  "  I  have  done  all  thou  bid 
me ;  now  then,  thou  tell  my  father  and  Suneva 


890  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

whatever  thou  told  me.  That  is  what  thou  art 
come  for,  I  know  it  is/' 

"  Yes,  it  is  so.  I  was  in  the  store  when  thy 
little  Jan  and  his  companions  came  there  with 
the  gold  given  them,  and  when  the  sovereigns 
had  been  changed  and  every  boy  had  got  his 
shilling,  I  said  to  thy  father,  <  Come  home  with 
me,  for  Margaret  is  at  thy  house,  and  great  joy 
has  come  to  it  to-day/  " 

Then  he  told  again  the  whole  story,  and  read 
aloud  Jan's  letters;  and  Peter  and  Suneva  were 
so  amazed  and  interested,  that  they  begged  the 
minister  to  stay  all  day,  and  talk  of  the  subject 
with  them.  And  the  good  man  cheerfully  con- 
sented,  for  it  delighted  him  to  see  Margaret 
and  Suneva  busy  together,  making  the  dinner 
and  the  tea,  and  sharing  pleasantly  the  house- 
hold cares  that  women  like  to  exercise  for 
those  they  love  or  respect.  He  looked  at 
them,  and  then  he  looked  at  Peter,  and  the 
two  men  understood  each  other,  without  a 
word. 

By  and  by,  little  Jan,  hungry  and  weary  with 
excitement,  came  seeking  his  mother,  and  his 
presence  added  the  last  element  of  joy  to  the 
reunited  family.  The  child's  eager  curiosity 


LITTLE  JAN'S  TRIUMPH.  291 

kept  up  until  late  the  interest  in  the  great 
subject  made  known  that  day  to  Peter  and 
Suneva.  For  to  Norsemen,  slavery  is  the 
greatest  of  all  earthly  ills,  and  Peter's  eyes 
flashed  with  indignation,  and  he  spoke  of 
Snorro  not  only  with  respect,  but  with  some- 
thing also  like  a  noble  envy  of  his  privileges. 

"  If  I  had  twenty  years  less,  I  would  man  a 
ship  of  mine  own,  and  go  to  the  African  coast 
as  a  privateer,  I  would  that.  What  a  joy  I 
should  give  my  two  hands  in  freeing  the 
captives,  and  hanging  those  slavers  in  a  slack 
rope  at  the  yard-arm." 

"  Nay,  Peter,  thou  would  not  be  brutal." 
"  Yes,  I  would  be  a  brute  with  brutes  ;  that 
is  so,  my  minister.     Even  St.  James  thinks  as 
I  do — '  He  shall  have  judgment  without  mercy 
that  showeth  no  mercy/     That  is  a  good  way, 
I  think.     I  am  glad  Snorro  hath  gone  to  look 
after  them.     I  would  be  right  glad  if  he  had 
Thor's  hammer  in  his  big  hands." 
"  He  hath  a  Lancaster  gun,  Peter." 
"  But  that  is  not  like  seeing  the  knife  redden 
In  the  hand.     Oh,  no  !  " 

"  Peter,  we  are  Christians,  and  not  heathens." 
"  I  am  sorry  if  the  words  grieve  thee.    Often 


292  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

I  have  wondered  why  David  wrote  some  of 
the  hard  words  he  did  write.  I  wonder  no 
more.  He  wrote  them  against  the  men  who 
sell  human  life  for  gold.  If  I  was  Jan  Vedder, 
I  would  read  those  words  every  morning  to  my 
men.  The  knife  that  is  sharpened  on  the  word 
of  God,  cuts  deep — that  is  so." 

"  Jan  hath  done  his  part  well,  Peter,  and  I 
wish  that  he  could  see  us  this  night.  It  hath 
been  a  day  of  blessing  to  this  house,  and  I  am 
right  happy  to  have  been  counted  in  it." 

Then  he  went  away,  but  that  night  Margaret 
and  her  son  once  more  slept  in  their  old  room 
under  Peter  Fae's  roof.  It  affected  her  to  see 
that  nothing  had  been  changed.  A  pair  of 
slippers  she  had  forgotten  still  stood  by  the 
hearthstone.  Her  mother's  Bible  had  been 
placed  upon  her  dressing-table.  The  geranium 
she  had  planted,  was  still  in  the  window ;  it 
had  been  watered  and  cared  for,  and  had  grown 
to  be  a  large  and  luxuriant  plant.  She  thought 
of  the  last  day  she  had  occupied  that  room,  and 
of  the  many  bitter  hours  she  had  spent  in  it, 
and  she  contrasted  them  with  the  joy  and  the 
hope  of  her  return. 

But  when    we  say  to   ourselves,  "  I  will  be 


LITTLE  JAN'S  TRIUMPH.  293 

grateful,"  it  is  very  seldom  the  heart  consents 
to  our  determination  ;  and  Margaret,  exhausted 
with  emotion,  was  almost  shocked  to  find  that 
she  could  not  realize,  with  any  degree  of 
warmth,  the  mercy  and  blessing  that  had  come 
to  her.  She  was  the  more  dissatisfied,  because 
as  soon  as  she  was  alone  she  remembered  the 
message  Tulloch  had  given  her.  It  had 
remained  all  day  undeliveied,  and  quite  forgot- 
ten. "  How  selfish  I  am,"  she  said  wearily, 
but  ere  she  could  feel  sensibly  any  regret  for 
her  fault  she  had  fallen  asleep. 

In  the  morning  it  was  her  first  thought,  and 
as  soon  after  breakfast  as  possible  she  went  to 
Dr.  Balloch's.  He  seemed  shocked  at  the 
news,  and  very  much  affected.  "  We  have 
been  true  friends  for  fifty  years,  Margaret,"  he 
said;  "I  never  thought  of  his  being  ill,  of  his 
dying — dying." 

"  He  does  not  appear  to  fear  death,  sir." 

"  No,  he  will  meet  it  as  a  good  man  should. 
He  knows  well  that  death  is  only  the  veil  which 
we  who  live  call  life.  We  sleep,  and  it  is 
lifted." 

"  Wilt  thou  see  him  to-day  ?  " 

"  Yes,  this  morning.     Thirty-eight  years  ago 


294  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

this  month  his  wife  died.  It  was  a  great  grief 
to  hin:.  She  was  but  a  girl,  and  her  bride-year 
was  not  quite  worn  out." 

"  I  have  never  heard  of  her.'* 

"  Well,  then,  that  is  like  to  be.  This  is  the 
first  time  I  have  spoken  of  NannaTulloch  since 
she  went  away  from  us.  It  is  long  to  remember, 
yet  she  was  very  lovely,  and  very  much 
beloved.  But  thou  knowest  Shetlanders  speak 
not  of  the  dead,  nor  do  they  count  any  thing 
from  a  day  of  sorrow.  However,  thy  words 
have  brought  many  things  to  my  heart.  This 
day  I  will  spend  with  my  friend. " 

The  reconciliation  which  had  taken  place  was 
a  good  thing  for  Margaret.  She  was  inclined 
to  be  despondent;  Suneva  always  faced  the 
future  with  a  smile.  It  was  better  also  that 
Margaret  should  talk  of  Jan,  than  brood  over 
the  subject  in  her  own  heart  ;  and  nothing 
interested  Suneva  like  a  love-quarrel  If  it 
were  between  husband  and  wife,  then  it  was  of 
double  importance  to  her.  She  was  always  try- 
ing to  put  sixes  and  sevens  at  one.  She  per- 
suaded Margaret  to  write  without  delay  to  Jan, 
and  to  request  the  Admiralty  Office  to  forward 
the  letter.  If  it  had  been  her  letter  she  would 


LITTLE  JAN'S  TRIUMPH.  295 

have  written  "  Haste  "  and  "  Important  "  all 
over  it.  She  never  tired  of  calculating  the  pos- 
sibilities of  Jan  receiving  it  by  a  certain  date, 
and  she  soon  fixed  upon  another  date,  when, 
allowing  for  all  possible  detentions,  Jan's  next 
letter  might  be  expected. 

But  perhaps,  most  of  all,  the  reconciliation  was 
good  for  Peter.  Nothing  keeps  a  man  so 
young  as  the  companionship  of  his  children  and 
grandchildren.  Peter  was  fond  and  proud  of 
his  daughter,  but  he  delighted  in  little  Jan. 
The  boy,  so  physically  like  his  father,  had  many 
of  Peter's  tastes  and  peculiarities.  He  loved 
money,  and  Peter  respected  him  for  loving  it. 
There  were  two  men  whom  Peter  particularly 
disliked ;  little  Jan  disliked  them  also  with  all 
his  childish  soul,  and  when  he  said  things  about 
them  that  Peter  did  not  care  to  say,  the  boy's 
candor  charmed  and  satisfied  him,  although  he 
pretended  to  reprove  it. 

Jan,  too,  had  a  very  high  temper,  and  resented, 
quick  as  a  flash,  any  wound  to  his  childish  self- 
esteem.  Peter  was  fond  of  noticing  its  relation- 
ship to  his  own.  One  day  he  said  to  the  boy  : 
"  Do  that  again  and  I  will  send  thee  out  of  the 
store." 


2$6  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

"  If  thou  sends  me  out  just  once,  I  will  never 
come  in  thy  store  again  ;  no,  I  will  not ;  never, 
as  long  as  I  live/'  was  the  instant  retort. 
Peter  repeated  it  to  Suneva  with  infinite  pride 
and  approval.  "  No  one  will  put  our  little  Jan 
out  for  nothing/*  he  said. 

"  Well,  then,  he  is  just  like  thee!"  said  the 
politic  Suneva  ;  and  Peter's  face  showed  that 
he  considered  the  resemblance  as  very  compli- 
mentary. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

JAN'S    RETURN. 
"  For  them  the  rod  of  chastisement  flowered." 

STRANGER  suddenly  dropped  in  these 
Shetland  islands,  especially  in  winter, 
would  not  unnaturally  say,  "how  monotonously 
dreary  life  must  be  here!  In  such  isolation  the 
heart  must  lose  its  keen  sense  of  sympathy,  and 
be  irresponsive  and  dumb."  That  is  the  great 
mistake  about  the  affections.  It  is  not  the  rise 
and  fall  of  empires,  the  birth  and  death  of 
kings,  or  the  marching  of  armies  that  move 
them  most.  When  they  answer  from  their 
depths,  it  is  to  the  domestic  joys  and  tragedies 
of  life.  Ever  since  Eve  wept  over  her  slain 
son,  and  Rebecca  took  the  love-gifts  of  Isaac, 
this  has  been  the  case  ;  and  until  that  mighty 
angel,  who  stands  on  the  sea  and  land,  cries, 
"  Time  shall  be  no  more,"  the  home  loves,  and 
the  home  trials,  will  be  the  center  of  human- 


298  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

ity's  deepest  and  sweetest  emotions.  So,  then, 
the  little  Shetland  town  had  in  it  all  the  ele- 
ments necessary  for  a  life  full  of  interest — birth 
and  death,  love  and  sorrow,  the  cruel  hand  and 
the  generous  hand,  the  house  of  mourning  and 
the  house  of  joy. 

Just  before  Christmas-tide,  Tulloch  was  sit- 
ting alone  at  midnight.  His  malady  was  too 
distressing  to  allow  him  to  sleep,  but  a  Norse- 
man scorns  to  complain  of  physical  suffering, 
and  prefers,  so  long  as  it  is  possible,  to  carry 
on  the  regular  routine  of  his  life.  He  was 
unable  to  go  much  out,  and  his  wasted  body 
showed  that  it  was  under  a  constant  torture, 
but  he  said  nothing,  only  he  welcomed  Mar- 
garet and  the  doctor  warmly,  and  seemed  to 
be  glad  of  their  unspoken  sympathy.  It  had 
been  stormy  all  day,  but  the  wind  had  gone 
down,  and  a  pale  moon  glimmered  above  the 
dim,  tumbling  sea.  All  was  quiet,  not  a  foot- 
fall,  not  a  sound  except  the  dull  roar  of  the 
waves  breaking  upon  the  beach. 

Suddenly  a  woman's  sharp  cry  cut  the  silence 
like  a  knife.  It  was  followed  by  sobs  and 
shrieks  and  passing  footsteps  and  the  clamor 
of  many  voices.  Every  one  must  have  noticed 


JAN'S  RETURN.  299 

how  much  more  terrible  noises  are  at  night 
than  in  the  daytime ;  the  silly  laughter  of 
drunkards  and  fools,  the  maniac's  shout,  the 
piercing  shriek  of  a  woman  in  distress,  seem  to 
desecrate  its  peaceful  gloom,  and  mock  the 
slow,  mystic  panorama  of  the  heavens.  Tul- 
loch  felt  unusually  impressed  by  this  night- 
tumult,  and  early  in  the  morning  sent  his  serv- 
ant out  to  discover  its  meaning. 

"  It  was  Maggie  Barefoot,  sir ;  her  man  was 
drowned  last  night  ;  she  has  six  bairns  and  not 
a  bread-winner  among  them.  But  what  then  ? 
Magnus  Tulloch  went  too,  and  he  had  four 
little  lads — their  mother  died  at  Lammas-tide. 
They'll  be  God's  bairns  now,  for  they  have 
neither  kith  nor  kin.  It  is  a  sad  business,  I 
say  that." 

"  Go  and  bring  them  here." 

The  order  was  given  without  consideration, 
and  without  any  conscious  intention.  He  was 
amazed  himself  when  he  had  uttered  it.  The 
man  was  an  old  servant,  and  said  hesitatingly, 
'"Yes,  but  they  are  no  kin  of  thine." 

"  All  the  apples  on  the  same  tree  have  come 
from  the  same  root,  Bele  ;  and  it  is  like  enough 
that  all  the  Tullochs  will  have  had  one  forbear. 


300  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

I  would  be  a  poor  Tulloch  to  see  one  of  the 
name  wanting  a  bite  and  sup.  Yes,  indeed." 

He  was  very  thoughtful  after  seeing  the 
children,  and  whe/.  Dr.  Balloch  came,  he  said 
to  him  at  once :  "  Now,  then,  I  will  do  what 
thou  hast  told  me  to  do — settle  up  my  affairs 
with  this  world  forever.  Wilt  thou  help  me?" 

"  If  I  think  thou  does  the  right  thing,  I  will 
help  thee,  but  I  do  not  think  it  is  right  to  give 
thy  money  to  Margaret  Vedder.  She  has 
enough  and  to  spare.  '  Cursed  be  he  that 
giveth  unto  the  rich.'  It  was  Mahomet  and 
Anti-Christ  that  said  the  words,  but  for  all  that 
they  are  good  words." 

"  I  have  no  kin  but  a  fifth  cousin  in  Leith ; 
he  is  full  of  gold  and  honor.  All  that  I  have 
would  be  a  bawbee  to  him.  But  this  is  what  I 
think,  my  money  is  Shetland  money,  made  of 
Shetland  fishers,  and  it  ought  to  stay  in  Shet- 
land." 

"  I  think  that  too." 

"  Well,  then,  we  are  of  one  mind  so  far.  Now 
my  wish  is  to  be  bread-giver  even  when  I  am 
dead,  to  be  bread-giver  to  the  children  whose 
fathers  God  has  taken.  Here  are  Magnus 
Tulloch's  four,  and  Hugh  Petrie's  little  lad,  and 


JAN'S  RETURN.  301 

James  Traill's  five  children,  and  many  more  of 
whom  I  know  not.  My  houses,  big  and  little, 
shall  be  homes  for  them.  My  money  shall  buy 
them  meal  and  meat  and  wadmail  to  clothe 
them.  There  are  poor  lonely  women  who  will 
be  glad  to  care  for  them,  eight  or  ten  to  each, 
and  Suneva  Fae  and  Margaret  Vedder  will  see 
that  the  women  do  their  duty.  What  thinkest 
thou  ?  " 

"  Now,  then,  I  think  this,  that  God  has  made 
thy  will  for  thee.  Moreover,  thou  hast  put  a 
good  thought  into  my  heart  also.  Thou  knows 
I  brought  in  my  hand  a  little  money  when  I 
came  to  Shetland,  and  it  has  grown,  I  know  not 
how.  I  will  put  mine  with  thine,  and  though 
we  are  two  childless  old  men,  many  children 
shall  grow  up  and  bless  us." 

Into  this  scheme  Tulloch  threw  all  his 
strength  and  foresight  and  prudence.  The 
matter  was  urgent,  and  there  were  no  delays, 
and  no  waste  of  money.  Three  comfortable 
fishermen's  cottages  that  happened  to  be 
vacant,  were  fitted  with  little  bunks,  and  plenty 
of  fleeces  for  bedding.  Peat  was  stacked  for 
firing,  and  meal  and  salted  fish  sent  in  ;  so  that 
in  three  days  twenty-three  fatherless,  mother- 


302  JAJV  VENDER'S  WIFE. 

less  children  were  in  warm,  comfortabl* 
homes. 

Suneva  entered  into  the  work  with  perfect 
delight.  She  selected  the  mothers  for  each 
cottage,  and  she  took  good  care  that  they  kept 
them  clean  and  warm,  that  the  little  ones'  food 
was  properly  cooked,  and  their  clothes  washed 
and  mended.  If  there  were  a  sorrow  or  a  com- 
plaint it  was  brought  to  her,  arid  Suneva  was 
not  one  to  blame  readily  a  child. 

Never  man  went  down  to  the  grave  with  his 
hands  so  full  of  beneficent  work  as  Tulloch. 
Through  it  he  took  the  sacrament  of  pain  almost 
joyfully,  and  often  in  the  long,  lonely  hours  of 
nightly  suffering,  he  remembered  with  a  smile 
of  pleasure,  the  little  children  sweetly  sleeping 
in  the  homes  he  had  provided  for  them.  The 
work  grew  and  prospered  wonderfully  ;  never 
had  there  been  a  busier,  happier  winter  in  Ler- 
wick.  As  was  customary,  there  were  tea-parties 
at  Suneva's  and  elsewhere  nearly  every  night, 
and  at  them  the  women  sewed  for  the  children, 
while  the  men  played  the  violin,  or  recited  from 
the  Sagas,  or  sung  the  plaintive  songs  of  the 
Islands. 

Margaret  brought  the  dying  man  constant 
intelligence  of  his  bounty  :  the  children,  one 


JAN'S  RETURN.  303 

or  two  at  a  time,  were  allowed  to  come  and  see 
him  ;  twice,  leaning  on  Dr.  Balloch,  and  his  serv- 
ant Bele,  he  visited  the  homes,  and  saw  the 
orphans  at  their  noonday  meals.  He  felt  the 
clasp  of  grateful  hands,  and  the  kiss  of  baby 
lips  that  could  not  speak  their  thanks.  His 
last  was  the  flower  of  his  life-work  and  he  saw 
the  budding  of  it,  and  was  satisfied  with  its 
beauty. 

One  morning  in  the  following  April,  Margaret 
received  the  letter  which  Suneva  had  prophesied 
would  arrive  by  the  twentieth,  if  the  weather 
were  favorable.  Nowhere  in  the  world  has  the 
term,  "  weather  permitting,"  such  significance  as 
in  these  stormy  seas.  It  is  only  necessary  to 
look  at  the  mail  steamers,  so  strongly  built,  so 
bluff  at  the  bows,  and  nearly  as  broad  as  they 
are  long,  to  understand  that  they  expect  to 
have  to  take  plenty  of  hard  blows  and  buffet- 
ings.  It  was  the  first  steamer  that  had  arrived 
for  months,  and  though  it  made  the  harbor  in 
a  blinding  snow-storm,  little  Jan  would  not  be 
prevented  from  going  into  the  town  to  see  if  it 
brought  a  letter.  For  the  boy's  dream  of  every 
thing  grand  and  noble  centered  in  his  father. 
He  talked  of  him  incessantly  ;  he  longed  to  see 
him  with  all  his  heart. 


304  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

Margaret  also  was  restless  and  faint  with 
anxiety  ;  she  could  not  even  knit.  Never  were 
two  hours  of  such  interminable  length.  At  last 
she  saw  him  coming,  his  head  bent  to  the  storm, 
his  fleet  feet  skimming  the  white  ground,  his 
hands  deep  in  his  pockets.  Far  off,  he  dis- 
covered his  mother  watching  for  him  ;  then  he 
stopped  a  moment,  waved  the  letter  above  his 
head,  and  hurried  onward.  It  was  a  good  let- 
ter, a  tender,  generous,  noble  letter,  full  of  love 
and  longing,  and  yet  alive  with  the  stirring  story 
of  right  trampling  wrong  under  foot.  The  child 
listened  to  it  with  a  glowing  face  : 

"I  would  I  were  with  my  father  and  Snorro," 
he  said,  regretfully. 

"Would  thou  then  leave  me,  Jan?" 

"  Ay,  I  would  leave  thee,  mother.  I  would 
leave  thee,  and  love  thee,  as  my  father  does.  I 
could  stand  by  my  father's  side,  I  could  fire  a 
gun,  or  reef  a  sail,  as  well  as  Snorro.  I  would 
not  be  afraid  of  any  thing ;  no,  I  would  not. 
It  is  such  a  long,  long  time  till  a  boy  grows 
up  to  be  a  man !  When  I  am  a  man,  thou 
shall  see  that  I  will  have  a  ship  of  my  own." 

It  is  only  in  sorrow  bad  weather  masters  us ; 
in  joy  we  face  the  storm  and  defy  it.  Mar- 


JAN'S  RETURN.  305 

garet  never  thought  of  the  snow  as  any  impedi- 
ment. She  went  first  to  Suneva,  and  then  to 
Dr.  Balloch  with  her  letter ;  and  she  was  so 
full  of  happiness  that  she  did  not  notice  the 
minister  was  very  silent  and  preoccupied. 
After  a  little,  he  said,  "  Margaret,  I  must  go 
now  to  Tulloch ;  it  has  come  to  the  last." 

"  Well,  then,  I  think  he  will  be  glad.  He  has 
suffered  long  and  sorely." 

"  Yet  a  little  while  ago  he  was  full  of  life, 
eager  for  money,  impatient  of  all  who  opposed 
him.  Thou  knowest  how  hard  it  often  was  to 
keep  peace  between  him  and  thy  father.  Now 
he  has  forgotten  the  things  that  once  so 
pleased  him ;  his  gold,  his  houses,  his  boats, 
his  business,  have  dropped  from  his  heart, 
as  the  toys  drop  from  the  hand  of  a  sleepy 
child." 

"  Father  went  to  see  him  a  week  ago." 

"  There  is  perfect  peace  between  them  now. 
Thy  father  kissed  him  when  they  said  'good- 
by.'  When  they  meet  again,  they  will  have  for- 
gotten all  the  bitterness,  they  will  remember 
only  that  they  lived  in  the  same  town,  and  wor- 
shiped in  the  same  church,  and  were  compan- 
ions in  the  same  life.  This  morning  we  are 


306  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

going  to  eat  together  the  holy  bread ;  come 
thou  with  me." 

As  they  walked  through  the  town  the  minis- 
ter spoke  to  a  group  of  fishers,  and  four  from 
among  them  silently  followed  him.  Tulloch 
was  still  in  his  chair,  and  his  three  servants 
stood  beside  him.  The  table  was  spread,  the 
bread  was  broken,  and,  with  prayers  and  tears, 
the  little  company  ate  it  together.  Then  they 
bade  each  other  farewell,  a  farewell  tranquil  and 
a  little  sad — said  simply,  and  without  much 
speaking.  Soon  afterward  Tulloch  closed  his 
eyes  and  the  minister  and  Margaret  watched 
silently  beside  him.  Only  once  again  the  dying 
man  spoke.  He  appeared  to  be  sleeping 
heavily,  but  his  lips  suddenly  moved  and  he 
said :  "  We  shall  see  Nanna  to-morrow !  " 

"  We  !  "  whispered  Margaret.  "  Whom  does 
he  mean  ?  " 

"  One  whom  we  can  not  see ;  one  who  knows 
the  constellations,  and  has  come  to  take  him  to 
his  God." 

Just  at  sunset  a  flash  of  strange  light  trans- 
figured for  a  moment  the  pallor  of  his  face  ;  he 
opened  wide  his  blue  eyes,  and  standing  erect, 
bowed  his  head  in  an  untranslatable  wonder 


JAN'S  RETURN.  30, 

and  joy.  It  was  the  moment  of  release,  and 
the  weary  body  fell  backward,  deserted  and 
dead,  into  the  minister's  arms. 

During  the  few  months  previous  to  his  death, 
Tulloch  had  been  much  in  every  one's  heart  and 
on  every  one's  tongue.  There  had  not  been  a 
gathering  of  any  kind  in  which  his  name  had 
not  been  the  prominent  one ;  in  some  way  or 
other,  he  had  come  into  many  lives.  His  death 
made  a  general  mourning,  especially  among  the 
fishers,  to  whom  he  had  ever  been  a  wise  and 
trustworthy  friend.  He  had  chosen  his  grave 
in  a  small  islet  half  a  mile  distant  from  Ler- 
wick — a  lonely  spot  where  the  living  never  went, 
save  to  bury  the  dead. 

The  day  of  burial  was  a  clear  one,  with  a 
salt,  fresh  wind  from  the  south-west.  Six  fisher- 
men made  a  bier  of  their  oars,  and  laid  the 
coffin  upon  it.  Then  the  multitude  followed, 
singing  as  they  went,  until  the  pier  was  reached. 
Boat  after  boat  was  filled,  and  the  strange  pro- 
cession kept  a  little  behind  the  one  bearing  the 
coffin  and  the  minister.  The  snow  lay  white 
and  unbroken  on  the  island,  and,  as  it  was  only 
a  few  acres  in  extent,  the  sea  murmured  uiv 
ceasingly  around  all  its  shores. 


308  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

The  spot  was  under  a  great  rock  carved  by 
storms  into  cloud-like  castles  and  bastions. 
Eagles  watched  them  with  icy  gray  eyes  from 
its  summit,  and  the  slow  cormorant,  and  the  sad 
sea-gulls.  Overhead  a  great  flock  of  wild  swans 
were  taking  their  majestic  flight  to  the  solitary 
lakes  .of  Iceland,  uttering  all  the  time  an  inspir- 
ing cry,  the  very  essence  of  eager  expectation 
and  of  joyful  encouragement.  Dr.  Balloch 
stood,  with  bared  head  and  uplifted  eyes, 
watching  them,  while  they  laid  the  mortal  part 
of  his  old  friend  in  "  that  narrow  house,  whose 
mark  is  one  gray  stone."  Then  looking  around 
on  the  white  earth,  and  the  black  sea,  and  the 
roughly-clad,  sad-faced  fishers,  he  said,  almost 
triumphantly — 

"  The  message  came  forth  from  him  in  whom 
we  live,  and  move,  and  have  our  being : 

"  Who  is  nearer  to  us  than  breathing,  and 
closer  than  hands  or  feet. 

"  Come  up  hither  and  dwell  in  the  house  of 
the  Lord  forever. 

"  The  days  of  thy  sorrow  have  been  suffi- 
cient ;  henceforward  there  is  laid  up  for  thee 
the  reward  of  exceeding  joy. 

"Thoushalt  no  more  fear  the  evil  to  come. 


JAN'S  KETURN.  309 

the  bands  of  suffering  are  loosed.  Thy  Re- 
deemer hath  brought  thee  a  release  from  sor- 
row. 

"So  he  went  forth  unto  his  Maker;  he 
attained  unto  the  beginning  of  peace. 

"  He  departed  to  the  habitations  of  just  men 
made  perfect,  to  the  communion  of  saints,  to 
the  life  everlasting/' 

Then  he  threw  a  few  spadefuls  of  earth  into 
the  grave,  and  every  man  in  turn  did  the  same, 
till  the  sepulture  was  fully  over.  Silently  then 
the  boats  filled,  and  all  went  to  their  homes. 
They  were  solemn,  but  not  sorrowful.  The 
simple,  pathetic  service  left  behind  it  a  feeling 
as  of  triumph.  It  had  shown  them  they  were 
mortal,  but  assured  them  also  of  immortality. 

During  the  following  summer  Margaret 
received  many  letters  from  Jan  ;  and  she  wrote 
many  to  him.  Nothing  is  so  conducive  to  a 
strong  affection  as  a  long  sweet  course  of  love- 
letters,  and  both  of  them  impressed  their  souls 
on  the  white  paper  which  bore  to  each  other 
their  messages  of  affection.  It  was  really  their 
wooing  time,  and  never  lover  was  half  so 
impatient  to  claim  his  bride,  as  Jan  was  to  see 
again  his  fair,  sweet  Margaret.  But  it  was  not 


310  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

likely  that  he  could  return  for  another  year,  and 
Margaret  set  herself  to  pass  the  time  as  wisely 
and  happily  as  possible. 

Nor  did  she  feel  life  to  be  a  dreary  or  monot- 
onous affair.  She  was  far  too  busy  for  morbid 
regrets  or  longings,  for  ennui,  or  impatience 
Between  Dr.  Balloch,  little  Jan,  the  "  Tulloch 
Homes,"  and  her  own  house,  the  days  were  far 
too  short.  They  slipped  quickly  into  weeks, 
and  the  weeks  into  months,  and  the  months 
grew  to  a  year,  and  then  every  morning  she 
awoke  with  the  same  thought — "  Even  to-day 
Jan  might  come/'  Little  Jan  shared  her  joyous 
expectations.  He  was  always  watching  the 
horizon  for  any  strange-looking  craft.  The  last 
thing  at  night,  the  first  in  the  morning,  some- 
times during  the  night,  he  scanned  the  bay, 
which  was  now  filling  fast  with  fishing  boats 
from  all  quarters. 

One  Sunday  morning  very,  very  early,  he 
came  to  his  mother's  bedside.  "Wake,  my 
mother !  There  is  a  strange  ship  in  the  bay. 
She  is  coming  straight  to  harbor.  Oh  !  I  feel 
surely  in  my  heart,  that  it  is  my  father's  ship  ! 
Let  me  go.  Let  me  go  now,  I  ask  thee." 

Margaret  was  at  the  window  ere  the   child 


JAN  3  RE  TURN.  3 1 1 

ceased  speaking.     "  Thou   may  go,"  she  said, 
"  for  I  certainly  think  it  is  '  The  Lapwing.'  ' 

He  had  fled  at  the  first  words,  and  Margaret 
awoke  Elga,  and  the  fires  were  kindled,  and  the 
breakfast  prepared,  and  the  happy  wife  dressed 
herself  in  the  pale  blue  color  that  Jan  loved  ; 
and  she  smiled  gladly  to  see  how  beautifully  it 
contrasted  with  the  golden-brown  of  her  hair, . 
and  the  delicate  pink  in  her  cheeks. 

As  for  the  child,  his  clear,  sharp  eyes  soon 
saw  very  plainly  that  the  vessel  had  come  to 
anchor  in  the  bay.  "  Well/'  he  said,  "  that  will 
be  because  the  tide  does  not  serve  yet."  John 
Sempb,  an  old  Scot  from  Ayrshire,  was  on  the 
pier,  the  only  soul  in  sight.  "  John,  thou  loose 
the  boat,  and  row  me  out  to  '  The  Lapwing.'  It 
is  l  The  Lapwing/  I  know  it  is.  Come,  thou 
must  be  in  a  hurry." 

"'  Hurry'    is    the    deil's    ain  word,    and   I'll 
hurry  for  naebody ;  forbye,  I  wadna  lift  an  oar 
for  man  nor  bairn  on  the  Sawbath  day." 
'    "  Dost  thou  think  it  is  '  The  Lapwing? '  ' 

"  It  may  be  :     I'll  no  say  it  isn't." 

The  child  had  unfastened  the  boat  while  he 
was  talking  ;  he  leaped  into  it,  and  lifted  an 
oar.  "  Then  I  must  scull,  John.  Thou  might 
go  with  me  !  " 


312  JAN  VEDDER' S  WIFE. 

"  I'm  no  gaun  to  break  the  Sawbath,  an'  a 
water  way  is  waur  than  a  land  way,  for  then 
you'll  be  atween  the  deil  an'  the  deep  sea. 
Bide  at  hame,  Jan,  an'  ye'll  be  a  wise  lad." 

Jan  shook  his  head,  and  went  away  by  him- 
self.  The  bay  was  smooth  as  glass,  and  he 
paddled  with  marvelous  ease  and  speed.  Very 
.soon  he  came  alongside  the  yacht :  the  sailors 
were  holystoning  the  deck,  but  there  was  not  a 
face  looked  over  the  side  that  little  Jan  knew. 

"Well,  then,  is  this  *  The  Lapwing?'"  he 
asked. 

"  That's  her  name ;  what's  your  name,  you 
little  monkey?" 

"  Jan  Vedder.     Throw  me  a  rope." 

The  men  laughed  as  if  at  some  excellent 
joke,  and  taunted  and  teased  the  child  until  he 
was  in  a  passion.  In  the  middle  of  the  quarrel 
Jan  himself  came  on  deck. 

"  A  lad  as  wants  to  come  on  board,  Captain." 

Jan  looked  down  at  the  lad  who  wanted  to 
come  on  board,  and  the  bright,  eager  face  gave 
him  a  sudden  suspicion.  "  What  is  thy  name?  " 
he  asked. 

"  Jan  Vedder.  Wilt  thou  throw  me  a  rope?" 

Then    the    captain    turned    and    gave    some 


JAN'S  RETURN.  313 

orders,  and  in  a  few  minutes  little  Jan  stood  on 
the  deck  of  "  The  Lapwing.  "His  first  glance,  his 
first  movement  was  toward  the  handsomely 
dressed  officer  who  was  watching  him  with  such 
a  smiling,  loving  face. 

"  Thou  art  my  father  !  I  know  thou  art !  " 
and  with  the  words  he  lifted  up  his  face  and 
arms  as  if  to  be  kissed  and  embraced. 

Then  they  went  into  the  cabin  and  Snorro 
was  called,  and  perhaps  Jan  had  a  little  pang 
of  jealousy  when  he  witnessed  the  joy  of  the 
child,  and  saw  him  folded  to  Snorro's  big  heart. 
Jan  and  Snorro  were  already  dressed  in  their 
finest  uniforms.  They  had  only  been  waiting 
for  the  daybreak  to  row  into  harbor.  But  now 
there  was  no  need  of  delay.  "  My  mother  is 
waiting  for  thee,"  said  little  Jan,  anxiously. 
"  Come,  let  us  go  to  her." 

It  was  still  very  early.  John  Semple  had 
disappeared,  and  not  a  soul  else  was  stirring. 
But  this  time  when  Jan  approached  his  old 
home,  the  welcome  was  evident  from  afar.  The 
chimneys  were  smoking,  the  blinds  raised,  the 
door  wide  open,  and  Margaret,  beautiful  and 
loving,  stood  in  it,  with  beaming  face  and  open 
arms  to  welcome  him. 


314  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

Then  there  was  a  wonderful  breakfast,  and 
they  sat  over  it  until  the  bells  were  ringing  for 
church.  "  There  will  be  time  to  talk  afterward," 
said  Snorro,  "  but  now,  what  better  thing  can 
be  done  than  to  go  to  church  ?  It  will  be  the 
best  place  of  all,  and  it  is  well  said,  l  for  a  happy 
hour  a  holy  roof/  What  dost  thou  think, 
Jan?" 

"  I  think  as  thou  dost,  and  I  see  the  same 
answer  in  my  Margaret's  face.  Well,  then,  we 
will  take  that  road." 

So  Jan,  with  his  wife  upon  his  arm,  went  first, 
and  Snorro,  holding  little  Jan  by  the  hand, 
followed.  The  congregation  were  singing  a 
psalm,  a  joyful  one,  it  seemed  to  Jan,  and  they 
quietly  walked  to  the  minister's  pew,  which  was 
always  reserved  for  strangers. 

Ere  they  reached  it  there  was  a  profound 
sensation,  and  Dr.  Balloch  slightly  raised  him- 
self and  looked  at  the  party.  Jan  was  in  his 
full  uniform,  and  so  was  Snorro,  but  there  was 
no  mistaking  either  of  the  men.  And  no  mis- 
taking the  tone  of  the  service  which  followed  ! 
It  seemed  as  if  the  minister  had  flung  off  fifty 
years,  and  was  again  talking  to  his  flock  with 
the  fire  and  enthusiasm  of  his  youth.  His 


JAN'S  RETURN.  315 

prayer  was  like  a  song  of  triumph  ;  his  sermor* 
the  old  joyful  invitation  of  the  heart  that  had 
found  its  lost  treasure,  and  called  upon  its 
neighbors  to  come  and  rejoice  with  it.  The 
service  ended  in  a  song  that  was  a  benediction, 
and  a  benediction  that  was  a  song. 

Then  Dr.  Balloch  hastened  to  come  down, 
and  Jan,  seeing  how  he  trembled  with  joy,  went 
to  meet  and  support  him  ;  and  so  there,  even 
on  the  pulpit  stairs,  the  good  minister  kissed 
and  blessed  him,  and  called  him,  "  my  dear 
son."  Peter  put  out  both  hands  to  Jan,  and 
Margaret  embraced  Suneva,  and  in  the  church- 
yard the  whole  congregation  waited,  and  there 
was  scarcely  a  dry  eye  among  either  men  or 
women. 

"  Thou  come  home  to  my  house  to-night, 
Jan,"  said  Peter,  "  thou,  and  thy  wife  and  child  ; 
come,  and  be  gladly  welcome,  for  this  is  a  great 
day  to  me." 

"  Come,  all  of  you,"  said  Suneva,  "  and  Snor- 
ro.  he  must  come  too." 

So  they  spent  the  night  at  Peter's  house,  and 
the  next  morning  Peter  walked  to  his  store 
between  his  son-in-law  and  his  grandson,  the 
proudest  and  happiest  man  in  Shetland.  All, 


316  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

and  far  more  than  all  of  his  old  love  for  Jan  had 
come  back  to  his  heart.  Jan  could  have  asked 
him  now  for  the  half  of  his  fortune,  and  K 
would  have  been  given  cheerfully. 


CHAPTER    XV. 

LABOR    AND    REST. 

"  Turning  to  the  celestial  city,  to  infinite  serenities,  to  love 
without  limit,  to  perfect  joy." 

THE  next  evening  Peter  and  Suneva  and 
Dr.  Balloch  sat  around  Jan's  hearth,  and 
talked  of  all  that  he  had  seen  and  done  during 
his  absence.  "  But  where  is  Michael  Snorro?" 
asked  the  doctor.  "  I  thought  to  have  heard 
him  talk  to-night." 

"  Snorro  stays  by  the  yacht.  His  quarters 
are  on  her,  and  she  is  in  his  charge.  No  one 
finds  Snorro  far  from  the  post  of  duty,"  an- 
swered Jan  proudly.  "  He  is  the  best  sailor  in 
her  Majesty's  service,  and  the  best  fighter." 

"  That  is  likely,"  said  Peter.  "  Since  the 
days  of  Harold  Halfager,  the  Snorros  have 
been  called  good  fighters." 

"  And  why  not  ? "  asked  Suneva,  with  a 
proud  toss  of  her  handsome  head.  "  He  is 


318  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

pure  Norse.  Will  a  Norseman  turn  from  any 
fight  in  a  good  cause?  That  he  will  not 
Peter,  there  is  none  can  tell  us  better  what  the 
Norseman  is  than  thou  can.  Speak  out  now, 
for  Jan  and  the  minister  will  be  glad  to  hear 
thee. 

Every  Shetlander  can  recite.  Suneva  had 
taught  Peter  to  believe  that  no  one  could 
recite  as  well  as  he  could ;  so  he  laid  down  his 
pipe,  and,  with  great  spirit  and  enthusiasm, 
spoke  thus: 

"  A  swarthy  strength  with  face  of  light, 
As  dark  sword-iron  is  beaten  bright ; 
A  brave,  frank  look,  with  health  aglow, 
Bonny  blue  eyes  and  open  brow  ; 
A  man  who'll  face  to  his  last  breath 
The  sternest  facts  of  life  and  death  ; 
His  friend  he  welcomes  heart-in-hand, 
But  foot  to  foot  his  foe  must  stand ; 

This  is  the  daring  Norseman. 

The  wild  wave  motion,  weird  and  strange , 
Rocks  in  him  :  seaward  he  must  range. 
He  hides  at  heart  of  his  rough  life 
A  world  of  sweetness  for  his  wife  ; 


LABOR  AND  REST.  „       .       319 

From  his  rude  breast  a  babe  can  press 
Soft  milk  of  human  tenderness, 
Make  his  eyes  water,  his  heart  dance, 
And  sunrise  in  his  countenance  ; 

The  mild,  great-hearted  Norseman 

Valiant  and  true,  as  Sagas  tell, 

The  Norseman  hateth  lies  like  hell ; 

Hardy  from  cradle  to  the  grave, 

'Tis  his  religion  to  be  brave  ; 

Great,  silent,  fighting  men,  whose  words  \^ 

Were  few,  soon  said,  and  out  with  swords  i 

One  saw  his  heart  cut  from  his  side 

Living — and  smiled,  and  smiling,  died, 

The  unconquerable  Norseman ! 

Still  in  our  race  the  Norse  king  reigns, 
His  best  blood  beats  along  our  veins ; 
With  his  old  glory  we  can  glow, 
And  surely  sail  where  he  could  row. 
Is  danger  stirring  ?     Up  from  sleep 
Our  war-dog  wakes  the  watch  to  keep, 
Stands  with  our  banner  over  him, 
True  as  of  old,  and  stern  and  grim  ; 

The  brave,  true-hearted  Norseman. 

When  swords  are  gleaming  you  shall  see 
The  Norseman's  face  flash  gloriously  ; 


320  JAN  VEDDER' S   WIFE. 

With  look  that  makes  the  foeman  reel : 
His  mirror  from  of  old  was  steel. 
And  still  he  wields,  in  battle's  hour, 
That  old  Thor's  hammer  of  Norse  power ; 
Strikes  with  a  desperate  arm  of  might, 
And  at  the  last  tug  turns  the  fight : 

For  never  yields  the  Norseman." 

"  That  is  true/*  said  Jan  ;  "  and  Snorro  knows 
not  the  way  to  yield.  Once,  on  the  river 
Songibusar,  when  we  were  attacking  Sherif 
Osman,  there  was  danger  that  a  battery  would 
be  taken  in  reverse.  '  The  Ajax  '  had  come  up  to 
assist  the  *  Hydra/  and  her  commander  sent  a 
sergeant  to  tell  Snorro  that  he  had  better  spike 
his  gun  and  retreat." 

Suneva  laughed  scornfully,  and  asked,  "  Well, 
then,  what  did  Snorro  answer  ?  " 

"  'Thou  tell  him  that  sent  thee,  that  Michael 
Snorro  takes  his  orders  only  from  Captain  Jan 
Vedder,  and  Captain  Vedder  has  not  said 
"retreat."  No,  indeed!'  Then  he  got  his 
gun  round  to  bear  on  the  enemy,  and  he  poured 
such  a  fire  down  on  them  that  they  fled,  fled 
quick  enough.  As  for  Snorro,  he  did  things 
almost  impossible/' 


LABOR  AND  REST.  32* 

"  Well,  Jan,  Osman  was  a  very  bad  man.  IV 
is  not  well  to  pity  the  downfall  of  tyrants.  He 
had  made  Borneo,  it  seems,  a  hell  upon  earth.' 

"  My  minister,  he  was  a  devil  and  no  man, 
But  five  hundred  free  blue  jackets  were  more 
than  he  could  bear.  We  utterly  destroyed  all 
his  forts,  and  took  all  his  cannon,  and  made  the 
coast  habitable/' 

"To-day,"  said  Margaret,  "  I  heard  thee  say 
to  Snorro,  *  when  thou  comes  next  on  shore, 
bring  with  thee  that  idol  of  Chappo's  for  the 
minister/  Who  then  is  Chappo  ?  " 

"  A  wretch  worth  fighting.  A  Chinese  pirate 
who  came  out  against  us  with  forty  junks,  each 
junk  carrying  ten  guns  and  a  crew  of  fifty  men. 
He  had  been  blockading  the  island  of  Potoo, 
where  many  English  ladies  had  taken  refuge. 
It  is  not  fit  to  name  the  deeds  of  these  devils. 
We  took  from  them  sixty  wretched  captives, 
destroyed  one  hundred  of  their  crafts  and  two 
hundred  of  their  guns,  and  thus  enabled  a  large 
number  of  merchant  vessels  which  had  been  shut 
up  in  different  rivers  for  ransom,  to  escape. 
There  was  even  a  worse  state  of  affairs  on  the 
Sarabas.  There  we  were  assisted  by  an  Ameri- 
can ship  called  '  The  Manhattan,  'and  with  her  aid 


32*  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

destroyed  a  piratical  expeditiom  numbering  one 
hundred  and  twenty  proas  carrying  more  than 
twelve  hundred  men.  These  wretches  before 
starting  beheaded  and  mutilated  all  their  women 
captives,  and  left  their  bodies  with  that  of  a 
child  about  six  years  old  upon  the  beach. 
Snorro's  wrath  that  day  was  terrible.  He  shut 
his  ears  to  every  cry  for  mercy.  I  do  not  blame 
him ;  indeed,  no." 

Thus  they  talked,  until  the  minister  said, 
"  Now  I  must  go  to  my  own  house,  for  Hamish 
is  full  of  fears  for  me  if  I  am  late."  So  Jan 
walked  with  him.  It  was  midnight,  but  the 
moon  was  high  in  the  zenith,  and  the  larks 
singing  rapturously  in  mid-air.  A  tender, 
mystical  glow  was  over  earth  and  sea,  and  both 
were  as  still  as  if  they  were  a  picture.  Many 
good  words  were  said  on  that  walk,  and  the 
man  who  was  saved  and  the  man  who  saved 
him  both  lay  down  upon  their  beds  that  night 
with  full  and  thankful  hearts. 

For  two  months,  full  of  quiet  joy,  Jan  and 
Margaret  occupied  their  old  home.  They  were 
almost  as  much  alone  as  in  their  honeymoon  ; 
for  little  Jan  spent  most  of  his  time  with  his 
friend  Snorro,  on  board  "  The  Lapwing." 


LABOR  AND  REST.  323 

Snorro  had  been  much  pleased  to  join  his  old 
mates  in  the  fishing  boats,  but  he  could  not 
bear  to  put  off,  even  for  a  day,  his  uniform. 
However,  Jan  and  he  and  little  Jan  often 
sailed  in  advance  of  the  fleet,  and  found  the 
herring,  and  brought  word  back  what  course  to 
steer.  For  this  knowledge  was  a  kind  of 
instinct  with  Jan  ;  he  could  stand  and  look 
east  and  west,  north  and  south,  and  then  by 
some  occult  premonition,  strike  the  belt  of 
fish. 

Never  had  Jan  dreamed  of  such  happiness  as 
came  at  last  to  him  in  that  humble  home  of 
his  early  married  life.  It  was  a  late  harvest  of 
joy,  but  it  was  a  sure  one.  Margaret  had  wept 
tears  of  fond  regret  in  all  its  rooms ;  its  hearth 
had  been  an  altar  of  perpetual  repentance  to 
her.  But  the  sorrow  had  been  followed  by  the 
joy  of  forgiveness,  and  the  bliss  of  re-union. 
Its  walls  now  echoed  the  fond  words  of  mutual 
trust  and  affection,  and  the  hearty  communings 
of  friendship.  There  was  no  stint  in  its  hospi- 
tality;  no  worry  over  trivial  matters.  Mar- 
garet had  learned  that  in  true  marriage  the 
wife  must  give  as  well  as  take — give  love  and 
forbearance,  and  help  and  comfort. 


324  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

Jan's  and  Snorro's  visit  was  a  kind  of  festival 
for  Lerwick.  Though  it  was  the  busy  season, 
Peter  and  Suneva  kept  open  house.  Never 
had  Peter  been  so  generous  both  in  friendship 
and  in  business ;  never  had  Suneva  dressed  so 
gayly,  or  set  such  plenteous  feasts.  She  was 
very  proud  of  Margaret's  position,  and  paid  her 
unconsciously  a  vast  respect ;  but  she  opened 
all  her  warm  heart  to  little  Jan,  and  everything 
that  was  hers  she  determined  to  give  him. 

Dr.  Balloch,  in  his  quiet  way,  enjoyed  the 
visit  equally.  He  went  very  often  to  sea  in 
the  yacht  with  Jan  and  Snorro,  and,  in  the 
happy  intercourse  with  them,  the  long  days 
were  short  ones  to  him.  He  saw  the  full 
fruition  of  his  faith  and  charity,  and  was  satis- 
fied. 

Fortunately,  after  this  event  Jan  was  never 
very  long  away  at  one  time.  Until  the  Russian 
war  he  made  short  cruises  in  the  African  seas, 
and  Snorro  had  many  opportunities  of  realizing 
the  joy  of  liberating  the  slave,  and  punishing  the 
oppressor.  In  the  toil  and  suffering  of  the 
Crimea,  Jan  and  Snorro  bore  their  part 
bravely.  Jan  had  charge  of  a  naval  brigade 
formed  of  contingents  from  the  ships  of  the 


LABOR  AND  REST.  325 

allied  fleets.  No  men  did  a  greater  variety  of 
duties  or  behaved  more  gallantly  than  these 
blue  jackets  on  shore.  They  dragged  the 
heavy  guns  from  their  ships,  and  they  fought 
in  the  batteries.  They  carried  the  scaling 
ladders  in  assaults.  They  landed  the  stores. 
They  cheerfully  worked  as  common  laborers 
on  that  famous  road  between  Balaclava  and 
Sebastopol,  for  they  knew  that  on  its  com- 
pletion depended  the  lives  of  the  brave  men 
famishing  and  dying  on  the  heights. 

But  after  many  happy,  busy  years,  Jan  came 
home  one  day  and  found  only  Margaret  to 
welcome  him.  His  son  Jan  was  commanding 
his  own  vessel  in  Australian  waters  ;  his  son 
Peter  was  in  the  East  Indies.  His  daughters' 
homes  were  far  apart,  Margaret,  with  fast  sil- 
vering hair,  and  the  heavy  step  of  advancing 
years,  longed  greatly  for  the  solace  and  strength 
of  his  constant  presence;  and  Jan  confessed 
that  he  was  a  little  weary  of  the  toil,  and  even 
of  the  glory  of  his  life. 

The  fact  once  admitted,  the  desire  for  retire- 
ment grew  with  its  discussion.  In  a  little 
while  Jan  and  Snorro  returned  to  Shetland  for 
the  evening  of  their  lives.  They  had  been 


3*6  JAN  VEDDER'S   WIFE. 

twenty  years  away,  but  Lerwick  was  very  little 
changed.  The  old  world  had  not  been  invaded 
by  the  new  one.  Here  and  there  the  busy 
spirit  of  the  age  had  left  a  finger-mark;  no 
more.  The  changes  were  mostly  those  which 
under  any  circumstances  would  have  come. 
Doctor  Balloch  had  finished  his  work,  and  gone 
to  his  reward.  Peter's  store  was  in  another 
name,  but  Peter,  though  a  very  old  man,  was 
bright  and  hale,  and  quite  able  to  take  an 
almost  childlike  interest  in  all  Jan's  plans  and 
amusements. 

At  first  Jan  thought  of  occupying  himself 
with  building  a  fine  new  house ;  but  after  he 
had  been  a  week  in  Shetland,  his  ambitious 
project  seemed  almost  ridiculous.  He  noticed 
also  that  Margaret's  heart  clung  to  her  old  home, 
the  plain  little  house  in  which  she  had  suffered, 
and  enjoyed,  and  learned  so  much.  So  he  sat 
down  contentedly  on  the  hearth  from  which  he 
began  a  life  whose  troubled  dawning  had  been 
succeeded  by  a  day  so  brilliant,  and  an  evening 
so  calm. 

Snorro,  never  far  away,  and  never  long  away, 
from  his  "dear  captain,"  his  "dear  Jan," 
bought  the  little  cottage  in  which  he  had  once 


LABOR  AND  REST.  327 

lived.  There  he  hung  again  the  pictured  Christ, 
'  and  there  he  arranged,  in  his  own  way,  all  the 
treasures  he  had  gathered  during  his  roving 
life.  Snorro's  house  was  a  wonderful  place  to 
the  boys  of  Lerwick.  They  entered  it  with  an 
almost  awful  delight.  They  sat  hour  after  hour, 
listening  to  the  kind,  brave,  good  man,  in  whom 
every  child  found  a  friend  and  comforter.  His 
old  mates  also  dearly  loved  to  spend  their  even- 
ings with  Snorro,  and  hear  him  tell  about  the 
dangers  he  had  passed  through,  and  the  deeds 
he  had  done. 

How  fair !  how  calm  and  happy  was  this 
evening  of  a  busy  day !  Yet  in  its  sweet  re- 
pose many  a  voice  from  the  outside  world 
reached  the  tired  wayfarers.  There  were  fre- 
quent letters  from  Jan's  children,  and  they 
came  from  all  countries,  and  brought  all  kinds 
of  strange  news.  There  were  rare  visits  from 
old  friends,  messages  and  tokens  of  remem- 
brance, and  numerous  books  and  papers  that 
kept  for  them  the  echoes  of  the  places  they  had 
left. 

Neither  did  they  feel  the  days  long,  or  grow 
weary  with  inaction.  Jan  and  Snorro,  like  the 
majority  of  men,  whose  life-work  is  finished, 


328  JAN  VEDDER'S  WIFE. 

conceived  a  late  but  ardent  affection  for  their 
mother  earth.  They  each  had  gardens  and  small 
hot-houses,  and  they  were  always  making  experi- 
ments with  vegetables  and  flowers.  It  was 
wonderful  how  much  pleasure  they  got  out  of 
the  patches  of  ground  they  tried  to  beautify. 
Then  the  fishing  season  always  renewed  their 
youth.  The  boats  in  which  Jan  or  Snorro 
took  a  place  were  the  lucky  boats,  and  often 
both  men  sat  together  during  the  watch,  as  they 
had  done  long  years  before,  and  talked  softly  in 
the  exquisite  Shetland  night  of  all  the  good  that 
had  come  to  them. 

For  the  companionship  between  these  two 
souls  grew  closer  and  fonder  as  they  drew  nearer 
to  the  heavenly  horizon.  They  were  more  and 
more  together,  they  walked  the  long  watches 
again,  and  fought  over  their  battles,  and  recalled 
the  hours  which  had  been  link  after  link  in 
that  chain  of  truest  love  which  had  bound  their 
hearts  and  lives  together. 

And  Margaret,  still  beautiful,  with  hair  as 
white  as  snow,  and  a  face  as  fair  and  pink  as  a 
pale  rose-leaf,  sat  smiling,  and  listening,  and 
knitting  beside  them ;  no  fears  in  any  of  theit 
hearts  to  beat  away,  no  strife  to  heal,  the  past 


LABOR  AND  REST.  329 

unsighed  for,  the  future  sure,  they  made  a  pic 
ture  of  old  age,  well  won, 

"  Serene  and  bright 
And  lovely  as  a  Shetland  night/' 


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LIBRARY,  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  DAVIS 

Book  Slip-50m-9,'70(N9877s8)458 — A-31/5,6 


N?  806711 

PS1072 

Barr,  A.E.H.  J3 

Jan  Vedder's  wife. 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
DAVIS 


